Taming a Dragon
by Belladonnaessence
Summary: DMHG3 yrs after graduation. HBPspoilers.Hermione and Ginny are successful owners of a child education business. Everythings seems to go well, until Hermione gets hired to take care of a 3year old Malfoy heir. Should she do it? What options does she really
1. Chapter 1

_**Disclaimer: This story is based on characters and situations created and owned by J. K. Rowling, various publishers and Warner Bros., Inc. No money is being made and no copyright or trademark infringement is intended. This story is purely for fun and fan fiction. I don't own it or get anything from it.**_

_**Ratings: R (for adult language, sexual content, a bit of violence)** - **DO NOT READ IF YOU ARE UNDER THE AGE OF 18 OR IF CERTAIN SEXUAL CONTENTS AND LANGUAGE BOTHERS YOU!**_

_**Pairings: HG/DM**_

_**BEWARE: HBP SPOILER**_

_Summary: It's been three years since the Golden Trio's graduation. While Harry and Ron work for the Ministry, Hermione and Ginny have opened their own childcare education business and have become very successful in the Wizarding World. Voldemort has been defeated at the end of their 7th year and all the Horcruxes have been destroyed. Life has, once again, become placid and nearly uncomplicated. That is, until the old foe Draco Malfoy moves back into the picture, a daddy of a three year old son, looking for a pre-school teacher. Can Hermione cope? Can they ever get along? Can they change their destiny?_

**Taming A Dragon**

**1. Who's the Daddy?**

"I hope I'll never have to step into a place like this, again," the younger of two men voiced, pulling his face into a sneer, reciprocated only by a grunt from the other.

It was an odd sight to watch those two approach the big glass doors of the Wiltshire General Hospital. The older one looking grimly through the long black strands of his greasy hair, and the young man possessing the most beautiful platinum blond hair anyone could imagine. In fact this hair was probably the most salient feature of his and everybody that was anybody in his world knew instantly which family he was part of.

Their attire, on the other hand, was thrown together as if they had just escaped a dress-up party.

The greasy haired gentleman with the trademark sneer, wore a pair of denim jeans and a pinstriped suit jacket over a Hawaiian shirt, and the younger smug faced looking one sporting black slacks, a white dress shirt, a green tie (with the words "who's the daddy?" printed on it) and a leather biker jacket over it. It is unnecessary to mention that their shoes made the whole ensemble appear even more ridiculous – the aforementioned wearing cowboy boots, while the latter had his feet encased in a pair of Nike's.

"I thought you knew more about muggle attire, Professor. Perhaps it would have been better for me to organize the clothes. This," he grabbed his shirt while looking down at himself, "looks **_ridiculous_**," he voiced angrily, knowing that the tie was no doubt the special touch of the sarcastic mind currently escorting him to the muggle hospital.

"Well, Mr. Malfoy, if you are so much better in Muggle Studies, you should have known that a muggle born woman requires a different type of contraceptive than a witch, hence we wouldn't be in this, as you so nicely phrased, **_ridiculous _**situation," the older man snarled at his godson while grabbing a hold of the door handle.

A derisive snort came from the younger man. "Professor Snape, look at all those muggles around us! We stick out like a pair of sore thumbs, if you ask me. I don't think we are blending in very well."

The older man scowled while pushing the younger man into the doorway.

"I didn't ask you, now did I? As it is, I'm taking a high risk to escort you here to this place. Now hold your mouth and hurry up!" The older man hissed and walked with long strides to the reception desk.

A young nurse looked up from her monitor as both of them approached.

"Welcome to Wiltshire General, how may I be of assistance?" she asked with a squeaky voice while looking both over with a smirk.

"Yes, we are here to see a patient in room 205," asked the young man, glancing unsure from the nurse to the professor and back.

"Name?" she enquired with a smile.

"I'm Draco Malfoy!" he answered.

At this the nurse laughed out loud and shook her head.

"No, no, no. I need the name of the patient you are here to see," she explained quickly.

Draco was clearly put of by this, but kept him self in check.

After giving her the name, both men were directed toward an array of elevators.

Snape came to a halt in front of the shiny metal doors looking puzzled.

"I know how to operate one. They are muggle transportation closets. I rode one in a muggle store before." Draco smirked at his professor while rounding him and pushed one of the buttons on the wall between the doors.

Professor Snape glanced impatiently from the door to Draco.

"Well, looks like nothing is happening," he growled.

"Patients, Professor, it should arrive soon," explained Draco, not surprised at this time by the lack of Snape's knowledge. Draco disliked muggles as much as his Professor standing next to him, but he had always had a knack for exploring new territory.

A "ding" sounded and the elevator doors slid to the side.

Draco walked in and motioned for his Professor to follow.

Snape put cautiously a foot forward and then stepped fully inside, while Draco pushed another button and the doors closed.

"It's all run by eceltrissy or something the like," Malfoy mouthed with an air of superiority. "Watch, when the doors open it'll be a complete different floor."

The "ding" sounded again the closet slowed until it came to a halt and opened the doors.

"See! It's very similar to the Ministry of Magic ones," Malfoy said and stepped out into a hall much smaller than the area they had come from.

"Very interesting, Mr. Malfoy," Snape answered in a bored, slightly sarcastic tone. "Too unfortunate, however, that you didn't put as much interest into your potions as you do for muggle contraptions. You could have improved your NEWTS grade considerably," he sneered while they walked down the hall.

"I didn't like the teacher they gave us, after you killed Dumbledore and vanished. She was a waste of space, that woman . . . called herself a professor for potions . . . more a professor for the art of liquor testing, I'd say . . . " Draco said, at the same time he was scanning the doors for number 205.

"Here it is!" he said coming to a stop. Draco took a deep shuddering breath. Suddenly his stomach plummeted and his heart did a few summersaults. What the hell was wrong with him? He was normally not that giddy. For years he had trained himself into complete obedience in mind and body; a preparation necessary to join the ranks of deatheaters at the time. And now he was a shaky right old mess, more scared of what he would find behind that door, than standing in the presence of an angry Dark Lord, ready to receive the Cruciatus.

"So that'll be it, huh?" he asked looking uncertain into the older man's eyes.

Snape could sense Malfoy's hesitation and nodded while he put a comforting hand on the young man's shoulder.

"It's for the best, Draco. I will be waiting here," was all he said before opening the door.

The hospital room Draco entered wasn't very large, but it certainly looked brighter than the hallway. His eyes roamed around. Two beds were standing on either side of a large window, but only one bed was occupied.

An older nurse turned around with a bundle in her arm and smiled broadly.

"Oh, here is the new daddy, ready to pick you up," she exclaimed in an annoying sing song voice, before turning back to the young mother and handing her the bundle of blue blankets. "I knew instantly that you are the father, those piercing eyes gave it away. Like father, like son," she added.

"Here is your baby, young lady, and I'll leave you to your family. Push the button if you are dressed and ready to go, ok?" the nurse instructed the young mother sitting on the bed, who nodded with a faint smile on her lips.

Before the nurse left the room, she turned briefly to Draco.

"Your wife is still tired from it all. Most of our young mothers don't request a wheelchair, but if you'd like I can get one to wheel her to the main entrance," she said with a questioning expression.

"That won't be necessary," Draco answered, confused as to what a wheel chair was, but glad when the nurse finally left, closing the door behind her.

"Wife," Draco mumbled almost inaudible. "She's not my wife."

"What are you doing here, Draco?" The young mother asked after taking her eyes of the baby boy she was currently nursing. 'His baby, his son', Draco thought absentmindedly.

Her eyes widened in amusement. "And, what are you wearing." She couldn't suppress a smirk.

Draco stepped forward cautiously, all the while staring in wonder at the interaction of mother and son. The baby's hand reached out to grasp the mother's finger while suckling greedily on her breast.

Draco shook his head slightly and composed himself. He would not allow for himself to go soft now, would he?

"Well?" The young woman urged while watching him curiously.

"I don't suppose you have changed your mind, Draco?" she asked next.

With a resolute expression on his face he stepped closer and pulled out his wand.

"I'm sorry. I'm so sorry," he whispered, lifting his wand at the woman who stared at him alarmed.

"What are you doing, Draco?" she uttered before everything around her turned black.

"Obliviate! . . . Stupefy!"


	2. Chapter 2

**2. WizKidzs**

"**_Oh, Merlin, deliver us from evil_**," Hermione huffed angrily, hidden behind the Sunday Prophet.

"What's wrong 'Me'?" Ginny, the youngest Weasley and a redhead to boot, asked her, looking up from her magazine "Witches Weekly".

"_Draco bloody Malfoy_ managed to get onto the front page, _again_," Hermione mumbled between chewing on her breakfast biscuit; ". . . with a huge article about his generosity, no less. I'm surprised he has managed to avoid the photographers in the recent years. There hasn't been a single picture. I swear he should have been brought to Azkaban a long time ago. How he _ever_ got off the charges, we'll never know. And now he seems busy doing all this charity work. What a joke!"

Ginny reached over the breakfast table and pushed the paper gently down, looking into the other girls face.

"Why, what's it say?" she asked, showing a tad more interest than she should have.

Hermione gave her a reproofing look.

"GINNY! Don't tell me you still have a crush on that … that imbecile. You know, Harry wouldn't be happy at all, if he knew," She said and attempted to push the paper back into its original position. Alas, Ginny didn't let her.

"'Me' you know damn well that I don't have a crush on him anymore. That was a long time ago and I moved on. Besides, it's not like any of us would ever have a chance. Despite the fact that Voldemort is dead, Draco still thinks the Weasley's are beneath him and that purebloods are **_all that_** and a bag of chips," Ginny answered truthfully.

Hermione smiled at her last choice of words, a muggle phrase, which Ginny had adopted from one of the muggle TV shows. Both witches had made it a custom to watch their favorite shows during boring week nights, preferably with a bag of popcorn. Hermione remembered the first time Ginny had watched her making popcorn in her little microwave. Her face had lit up like a Christmas tree after it began to pop loudly and the little yellow cornels transformed into white puffy popcorn. After tasting the first handful, she had managed to devour the whole bag, leaving Hermione only a few at the bottom.

The girls had shared a flat in London for over a year now, conveniently in the same building as Harry and Ron. Hermione enjoyed being surrounded by her friends, and living with her best friend and business partner Ginny, was the best that could have happened to her since her parents had been killed. Ginny, although she was completely oblivious to it, had a unique talent to get Hermione out of her most grievous moods, and for that she was thankful.

The trio, plus Ginny, had been inseparable since the destruction of Voldemort and his remaining Horcruxes at the end of their seventh year. It had been the most trying year in Hermione's life. Not only had they lost their cherished Headmaster Dumbledore, many good people had lost their lives during the final days of the war, including her parents.

It was their strong friendship that held everything together. Whenever one of the four was down and depressed, the others were there, like a family, giving warmth, strength and support.

And now they were living in the city of London, Hermione sharing a flat with Ginny, and Ron with Harry in the same building. Harry and Ron both worked for the Ministry of Magic, Harry had become an Auror and Ron was working in the Department for the Regulation and Control of Magical Creatures. Ginny and Hermione had both gone to the Docendo Discimus Wizarding University to study Childhood Wizarding Education.

Hermione, of course, had been done a year earlier and began working while Ginny finished her exams.

It had been three years, since Hermione had graduated from Hogwarts. Three years without seeing Malfoy's sneering face or being bombarded by his infantile insults and she was glad for that.

She looked up at Ginny, her face taking on a mock serious expression.

"Good," Hermione agreed. "I mean, think of your wedding Ginny. It's in only two months!"

Hermione squealed happily rubbing her hands together in glee, while Ginny gave her a fake smile.

"You act as if you are the one getting married to Harry," Ginny growled at her.

Hermione's face turned serious, once again, but this time it wasn't faked. She reached over the table and grabbed the other girl's hand.

"What's wrong Ginny? Aren't you happy to get married? I thought that is what you always dreamed of?"

"Yes, it is, but . . . I guess I'm beginning to get cold feet. I don't know if I'm doing the right thing, Mione," she answered with a slightly shaky voice.

Hermione patted her arm comfortingly. "Everything will be ok, Gin. You'll see. It's normal to be nervous, I suppose."

She gave Ginny a big grin. "Hey, look at it this way. At least you've had several marriage proposals already, unlike me."

Now it was Ginny's turn to grin. "How many times have I told you, Mione. You scare guys. If you'd only flirt with them a bit more and not _always_ talk about academic stuff", at that the red head rolled her eyes, "then you'd probably have guys drop to their knees for you left and right." As an afterthought she added: "As pretty as you are."

Hermione shook her head and snorted sarcastically. "I don't think so. First of all, I'm by no means pretty. But never mind that. I'm too busy anyway, what with our growing customer clientele and all. Yesterday five new clients called to have their children put into our daycare system. And all the house calls I have to make on top of it.

I just wouldn't have time for a husband or my own children."

Ginny's face turned business like.

"You know, Mione, instead of always looking after the daycare center and delegating our staff, I could do house calls on occasion to relief a bit of stress. I mean, you are doing it all, lately, including the books."

Hermione cocked her head to the side and grinned. "You know me. I'm a work-aholic. Besides, you are busy enough with all the wedding preparations. I'm sure there'll come a time when I need you to return the favor."

Ginny got up and looked at the messages from recent days on the big magical board in their kitchen. All the new requests made by any clients, magically appeared on said board. It was no big surprise that their business had boomed within the past year. Wizards from all over wanted their young children to either attend their daycare or have the In-Home-Care Service. Hermione's and Ginny's "WizKidz Center" had become rather famous and highly recommended by the Ministry and the Pediatric Wizarding Association.

Scanning over them absentmindedly she began to talk about Hermione's least favorite subject. "You know Ron is still hanging around with Lavender Brown. She managed to move into Ron's and Harry's flat."

Hermione only grunted, not giving her friend any sign she was interested in this particular conversation.

"It would be so much nicer, if you could date Ron, again. I don't like Lavender. She's the most stuck up b…"

Hermione quickly interrupted Ginny before she could go on.

"GINNY! No matter how stuck up she is, she's Ron's fiancée and that's that. I love Ron like a brother, nothing more. Besides, Ron and I never got along as a couple," Hermione replied strongly.

Her face had turned red in anger as she hid behind the Sunday Prophet. She hated the subject and wished for Ginny not to bring it up every other day. Wasn't it enough that Hermione had to witness Ron cheating on her with Lavender at the beginning of their seventh year? And all the pain he had caused her was just because she wasn't willing to have sex with Ron before their betrothal. Was it her fault that he hadn't been able to keep his bloody pants on?

Involuntarily, her thoughts drifted back to the night she went to the room of requirements to look for him. He had been avoiding her and she wanted to find out why. It took bribing a second year Gryffindor girl, who had overheard a conversation, where she would find him.

After she had finally managed to open the door to the room, she had unfortunately become witness to the explicit scenes of Ron's infidelities. She never knew a broken heart could hurt so much.

Hermione shook her head and willed herself back to the present. She was over it and had moved on.

"OH, BLIMEY! WHAT IN MERLIN'S NOSE HAIR?" Ginny suddenly exclaimed, still staring at the message board.

Hermione looked up at the red head. "What's going on Ginny?"

The Weasley girl didn't answer straight away, all the while staring mesmerized at the board.

Hermione got up impatiently. "Ginevra! What is it?"

She walked across the kitchen toward the large board, following Ginny's stare.

"Speaking of the devil . . . Malfoy," was all Ginny breathed before turning from rather pale to bright red.

"What?" After attempting to read the message, though Ginny's long mane wouldn't allow it, Hermione had enough and pushed Ginny gently to the side.

There, in plain sight, was a request form for In-Home-Child-Services, signed no other than Draco Malfoy.

Hermione swallowed before she spoke hoarsely. "I didn't know Malfoy had a child?"

Ginny, looking nearly as perplexed as Hermione, nodded. "I had heard rumors about it. After his mother died and his father was booked in Azkaban, the Skeeter woman had mentioned something like it to my father, but it was never confirmed. I guess he needs someone to help him raise his kid, since Pansy ran of with Flint shortly after their wedding."

Both girls looked at each other in disbelief.

"I cannot imagine the nasty ferret with a – how old is the kid?- three year old. Oh and it's a son," Hermione added and shook her head slightly, while examining the request form.

"Marcellus Devlin Malfoy! What a name. It sounds sort of regal; don't you think 'Me'?"

Hermione gave Ginny a deathly glare. "Are you kidding me? The name is just as pompous as his father's big arse."

Ginny grinned at Hermione's sudden outburst and sat back down at the kitchen table, finishing her cup of coffee.

"So who's taking the case, you, me or Glenna?" Ginny ask.

Hermione's face took on a thoughtful expression, while biting her lower lip, before she answered.

"Glenna doesn't have the proper education to be an in-home child provider yet. She still needs to finish her last exam. We certainly can't spare Violet, Darcy or Colleen. They have their hands more than full at the Daycare. Vanessa, Esmeralda, Stella, Eileen and Thomas are booked full for the next ten months. It would have to be you, I suppose," Hermione voiced.

"OH, NO! No, no, no, no. You can't expect me to do this. No way, Mione! He'll eat me alive for dinner. No! You do it!" Ginny exclaimed, turning even redder.

Hermione raised an eyebrow, a sarcastic grin playing around her lips.

"And I thought I'd just seen a smitten Ginevra not five minutes ago. What happened, Ginny? Have you suddenly become scared to face the ferret?"

"No! But I think it better for you to do it. After all, I'm getting married in two months and Harry wouldn't like it at all if I were to spend any length of time at the Malfoy Manor, don't you think?"

Hermione gave up defeated. "Alright, Ginny, I'll do it. But I'm warning you now: if you plan on asking me the million dollar question about Malfoy, I'm personally going to strangle you."

Both of them giggled before getting ready for the day ahead.

The rest of Hermione's Sunday went uneventful. Ginny was going on a late night date with Harry and she had plopped herself in front of the telly, watching a sappy love story after she had washed all her clothes for the coming week. She knew she'd be too busy to do any house chores.

Finally, after brushing teeth and a quick shower, she trotted of to bed in her auburn silk pjs.

She thought of the initial meeting at the Malfoy Manor the next day. Despite her tiredness, sleep nevertheless wouldn't come until way past midnight. Hermione dreaded seeing him again. All the taunts and name-calling she had endured during the entire seven years at Hogwarts came crashing back into her memory.

Oh, how she loathed the Prince of Slytherin and his entourage of idiotic friends. Hermione could only hope he had grown up and would treat her civilly at the very least. For a brief moment she thought of turning down the job, but Malfoy had become a very respected and powerful man in the wizarding world. Despite the fact that Harry ridded the world of the darkest and most evil wizard of all time, he still didn't reach the fame scale of one_ Draco Malfoy_, rich bastard extraordinaire. 'Money talks', she mused. Hermione wouldn't put it past him to convince the Ministry to revoke her Childcare license if she declined, and that was something she couldn't chance. 'I wonder if the child looks like Pansy,' Hermione speculated and hoped that the poor kid didn't inherit Pansy's Pug nose. Finally her eyes shut and she fell into a light slumber.


	3. Chapter 3

**3. Wedding Invitations and Chocolate Fingers**

The next morning proved to be one of the worst mornings Hermione ever had. First, she woke up late, something she rarely did.

While brushing her teeth she hopped around trying to piece together the best attire for the day.

Then Ginny stormed into the flat, face flushed in anger and with the morning mail in hand.

"LOOK WHAT THE OWL BROUGHT US. LOOK!" She yelled, nearly bursting Hermione's eardrums.

"That bitch! Now she's done it," Ginny went on.

Hermione wasn't in the mood for all this and attempted to push Ginny out of the bathroom. She was in dire need of a quick shower to wake up. Ginny retreated so she could close the door.

"It's an invitation, Mione, an invitation to their wedding! I cannot believe he hasn't told me!" Ginny's voice drifted through the bathroom door.

"Who?" Hermione asked confused.

"My bloody excuse of a brother and the lampshade," Ginny answered, spitting the last word as if it were a piece of dirt.

"What? Ron and Lavender are getting married?" Hermione was shocked for a brief moment, but then composed herself, giggling at Ginny's latest pet-name for another future sister-in-law. She remembered the time during Fleur's stay at the Weasley's and Ginny who so fittingly had given her the nickname "Phlegm".

Why should she care anyway? She and Ron were still on speaking terms, but the deep trust they had held for each other had been gone for over three years. "Who cares," she added and continued soaping her hair.

"Who cares? Who cares? I care! Why hasn't he told us? Is he that much of a chicken? Wait till mum hears about that!" Ginny was livid.

Hermione opened the door dressed and groomed, which wasn't easy considering the short time span she spent in the bathroom. What would she do without the power of a wand and a few beauty spells?

She gave Ginny an innocent smile. "Ginny, I'm sorry to break it to you, after all you are his sister, but Ron has always been a chicken. That is why he gets along so well with Lavender, you see? She has the pants on and tells him what to do, hence, the reason why Ron and I never got along. Call me a know-it-all or bossy, but I don't like guys that have no balls. Now if you'll excuse me, I have to be at the Malfoy Manor in ten minutes. It's just enough time to apparate."

Hermione gave her a peck on the cheek and left a flustered Ginny Weasley behind.

Seven minutes later she stood before the massive building, or castle more like it. Hermione looked up to the grey and creepy looking exterior looming over her.

With a deep sigh she took the steps to the front door.

'Oh my gods, what am I doing here?' she thought to herself while catching her breath and straightening her white summer skirt. In addition to the skirt, which ended right around her knee, she wore a coral colored tank top and a crème colored, short sleeve blouse over it. Her hair she had put into a bun, only some tendrils of her brown curls had escaped their confinement.

With a deep sigh she stepped closer to the heavy chestnut door and gave a resolute knock with the iron cast knocker.

Not long after, a house elf opened the door and looked up at her with his large green eyes.

"Hello, there, I'm the new nanny Mr. Malfoy called for?" Hermione introduced herself.

"Oh yes, yes, come in Miss. Master's a waitin' in the green room. Follow Morphy, please!" He nodded and opened the door wider to admit her entrance.

Then, he turned around swiftly and tapped down the cold marble hallway.

Hermione looked around stunned. The hallway alone looked at least five times bigger than her entire flat. A large black marble staircase led up to the upper level to the right and the left.

The walls were lined with suits of armor as well as heavy paintings. Hermione had to stop herself from snorting out loud. Her fitting analogy of a pompous Malfoy wasn't very far fetched, she mused.

The house elf cleared his throat just in time. Hermione was inches away from crashing into the small creature. She blew a lock out of her face and silently cursed herself for not paying more attention.

"Morphy has to go back to the kitchens. Take the second door right, Miss," he said and pointed a long scaly finger into the direction of the door.

Hermione could only nod, before Morphy vanished with a flick of his finger.

She stepped quietly closer to the door. From behind it she could hear faint swooshing sounds.

"Hello?" Hermione called timidly, her voice reverberating in the big hall.

Carefully, she took another step and noticed the door was slightly cracked open.

The sounds were becoming louder and right as Hermione stuck out her hand to knock, the door was ripped open, giving way to a tall man with a sword in his hand. He was clad in black slacks and a white, medieval looking shirt. His skin was glistening with sweat. Apparently he had done some form of physical exercise.

Hermione took a step back startled and was even more shocked to realize that Lucius Malfoy was standing before her, with a weapon in his hand, no less.

"Oh my G . . . I'm . . .a . . .I'm Hermione Granger. The new nanny," she finally managed.

There was a pause and Hermione could tell that Lucius was taken aback by her appearance. Finally, he cleared his throat.

"That's you? The famous know-it-all is a Nanny from WizKidz? I'll be damned."

Draco didn't let on to it, but his mind was racing. Hermione noticed how unsure he looked for a moment before he composed himself, his face slipping back into the typical Malfoy sneer.

Shamelessly and with more interest than she thought necessary, he stared Hermione up and down before giving her a one-sided grin, his icy blue-grey eyes glinting at her malevolently. After his assessment, he finally spoke.

"Well, come in," he said and opened the door for her to step through, but Hermione hesitated.

"What are you doing out of Azkaban, Mr. Malfoy? I thought . . . I mean to say, that is," Hermione stumbled over her words, frantically wondering if she should run now or wait to see what would happen first. Her gut said run despite her Gryffindor nature, and she was about to bolt, when she heard Mr. Malfoy busting out laughing.

Surprisingly to Hermione it was a warm laugh, almost sincere.

She glanced back at the man still chuckling at her and shaking his head.

"I'm glad you find this so amusing," she said, staring daggers at him.

Hermione was beginning to think that Lucius must have lost his marbles in Azkaban.

'He's certainly a tad bit of the latch', she thought before she was grabbed by the arm and pulled into the large "Green Room".

"What the hell are you doing?" She shouted at him and pulled her arm out of his grasp.

"How long did you plan on standing at the door? I'm a busy man, Granger. I have no time to be fooling around," he answered with the typical Malfoy sneer.

"Let's get one thing straight right away, Lucius Malfoy, I do not appreciate to be touched by you in any way shape or form, or I'm forced to inform the Ministry of your conduct. Now where is the father of the child?" She huffed, hiding her shaking hands behind her back.

"Right in front of you, Mudblood," he answered, giving her a superior grin.

Hermione took a closer look at the man before her. He certainly looked very good for having spent several years in Azkaban. His hands slid through the top part of his long blonde hair. She had only seen Lucius a few times in her life and that was long ago. Three years had gone by since she last faced Draco Malfoy. Could she have made a mistake?

"For the smartest witch of the century you are certainly a bit daft, Granger, or blind" he voiced and placed the heavy sword on a large wooden table.

"I'm Draco Malfoy, your archenemy, remember?" he continued and walked over to a large armchair, plumping lazily into it. One leg he placed over the arm of the chair while interlocking his fingers and watching her smugly.

For the umpteenth time, Hermione was shocked beyond belief as she stared at the regal form of none other than Draco Malfoy. How could this be possible? He looked just like a younger version of his father, from what Hermione remembered of him. 'Creepy', she thought and began fidgeting with her hands.

Draco cleared his throat. "You can stop staring now. I assure you, it is me. My father is still locked up and Voldemort is still dead. Let's just say it's a magical thing that happens to every Malfoy. Now take a seat before you grow roots here and I'll have to look at your face while I'm practicing sword fighting every day," he mused and pointed toward another armchair on the other side of a little round table. "Then again, perhaps you could be useful for my aiming technique," he added maliciously.

Hermione walked slowly toward the assigned chair and seated herself, while he watched her unabashed.

"Well, that's really a surprise, Malfoy. You certainly turned into the spitting image of your father." Her attempt at a nice conversation was lost on the blonde Slytherin.

"It's the hair and the looks, but otherwise I sure hope that's all I have from my so-called father," he mentioned, his eyes never leaving hers, which resulted in her cheeks turning bright pink.

He took a deep breath. "I must say, I'm utterly surprised to see you, a mudblood no less, working for the very well established "WizKidz". As a matter of fact, I just sent a donation to the organization you work for. Perhaps I shouldn't have, if I had only known," he said in a mock serious voice.

Hermione rolled her eyes. Nothing had changed. And why would it? He was still the same brainless bastard he had always been. There was only one thing to do. She would have to make it clear to him that if he wanted her to work with his child, he had to refrain from calling her a mudblood or else she would resign from this job immediately.

She bent forward in her seat. "It appears, that you still haven't grown up, Draco Malfoy. It's rather sad, to say the least. And for a moment I really thought you had changed, but I was wrong. You are nothing but a slimy, stupid, ignorant FERR . . ."

"I wouldn't finish that sentence, if I were you!" Draco had jumped out of his seat with lightning speed and was now bent over Hermione, breathing in the sweet scent of her perfume; his statue took on a threatening posture, and his hands he had placed on either side of the armchair. Hermione could feel his hot breath caressing her face. She squirmed uncomfortably under his gaze.

"You have no idea who I am, Granger. You never have and you never will! Granted, you might have beaten me in every subject in school with your know-it-all attitude, but you are too narrow-minded to see the finer and subtler nuisances of people. I don't think I want my son to be taught by the likes of you. As a matter of fact, I'd much rather hire someone more suited for the job. Who's your boss? I need to talk to her immediately."

Hermione's glare rivaled Snape's before she gave answer.

"I'm the boss, Malfoy! And to make it clear to you, I have no inclination to continue this conversation. As a matter of fact, I decline your request for a teaching nanny. Neither I nor any of my staff will ever set another foot into this house. Do I make myself clear?" Hermione said harshly, standing up and pushing a stunned Draco away from her.

'She was the boss?' Draco thought astonished. But it couldn't be. Then again, he had to admit that he had never spent any time or effort to find out who the owner or owners of WizKidz were.

He hadn't suspected her sudden move and was unprepared, nearly crashing into the table behind him. Quickly he regained his balance. Hermione wasn't the scared little mop anymore, he mused. His eyes, now dark and stormy, fixed back on hers.

Perhaps Hermione shouldn't have done that. Because the deathly glare she received from him next made her shiver.

Slowly he stepped toward her again, and Hermione could have sworn he was ready to strike her, when she heard a small voice coming from the direction of the door.

"Daddy? What you doing, Daddy?"

Draco peeled his eyes away from her and turned his head.

"What are you doing here, little guy? Didn't I tell you to stay with Dixie?" Draco said and walked toward the child, lifting him effortlessly into is arms.

It was Hermione's turn to stare mesmerized at the pair, especially the beautiful child in his father's arms.

He had the most beautiful platinum blonde curls framing his little angelic face. He watched Hermione's every move with his large blue eyes. This blue was so intense, that it brought shivers down her back.

He had little chocolate smutches around his mouth, which made him all the more adorable.

One of his little arms shot out and pointed at Hermione.

"Who's that?" He asked and stuck his chocolaty thumb into his mouth.

Draco hesitated and shifted his son to his other arm.

"Well?" Hermione asked, looking straight into Malfoy's face. "Aren't you going to introduce us?"

"I don't think so Granger! As I told you before, I'd much rather have someone more _**pure of blood** _teach my son, so therefore it would be a mote point to introduce you. I believe you were ready to go?" he said smugly with a grin, yet, his eyes spoke otherwise.

"Fine!" Hermione said brusquely. "Good day, _Mister Malfoy!_"

She didn't give him another look as she walked quickly to the door. All she could think of was gaining as much distance between her and the bloody ferret as fast as possible. She should have been thankful, for now she wouldn't have be in Malfoy's severely uncomfortable presence anymore, or put up with his petty insults, while trying to educate his son. But for some odd reason she wasn't thankful or happy. His words had stung her, hitting dead center, once again.

"This the Nanny, Daddy, right?" She heard the little boy ask.

"No, big guy, we are looking for a different Nanny," the answer came.

"But I want her!" the boy exclaimed.

Hermione opened the door and stepped through, the argument between father and son growing fainter as she walked down the hall.

"No, no, no, Daddy. I want her. The 'phetty' girl."

"Come on, Marcel, I'll let you ride Princess, if you promise to be a good boy."

"No, I want down. DOWN!"

"Marcel, wait!"

Hermione had reached the large front door and opened it, shaking her head. 'You just taught your son well, Malfoy,' she mused, a chuckle escaping her. 'That's exactly how you raise a spoiled brat such as yourself,' she thought, but before she could step outside, a small chocolate covered hand took hold of her white summer skirt.

"Stay lady, peaase."

That was Hermione's undoing. Slowly she crouched down in front of the little boy and rubbed his cheek lightly with her finger.

"What's your name, young man?" She enquired softly.

"Macel Devin Mafoy," he answered proudly, pushing out his chest.

"Nice to meet you Marcel," Hermione replied and shook his little hand.

"My name is Hermione Granger, and, yes, I am a Nanny. But it is up to your father if I'm to become **_your_ **Nanny," she explained slowly, and added: "I'll be your Nanny, if you Daddy say 'Yes'. But, if he says 'No', I must go."

Hermione looked into Marcel's eyes and saw him thinking it over. Then he turned around to his dad, who was standing a foot behind his son, watching the scene, unsure of what to do.

As a matter of fact, Draco was more uncertain about this situation, than at any other time in his life. He hated her with a passion, had hated her for seven long years. He despised her for her intelligence and her good looks. Oh she hadn't always been good looking, but for the last 3 years at Hogwarts she had enquired a passable appearance. He mainly despised her for her self sufficiency. She didn't need him, never needed him. All other girls had fallen to their knees for Draco Malfoy, the Slytherin Prince. And even now he was highly esteemed among the female witch population, but not her, never her. He couldn't spin his fine net of charm around her and leave her smitten and begging for more. He hated her for her goodness and bravery, her honesty and purity. He hated her loyalty to the famous scarhead. How could he bare seeing her everyday, while she taught his son? The ultimate reason for his uncertainty was something he dared not think about.

Draco looked into Marcel's begging eyes.

"Can we keep the lady, daddy?" the boy asked innocently, tugging on Draco's heartstrings.

It took a while for Draco to answer and when he finally did, he no less surprised himself.

"Alright, young man, she can stay," he finally managed, cringing at his response. He had wanted to say 'No', but why didn't he? He brushed his long hair away from his face in agitated manner.

Then Draco snapped his finger and a house elf appeared. "Dixie, take young Malfoy to his chambers. He's in dire need of a bath," he said through clenched teeth. "And afterwards you can iron your ears for not listening properly".

The house elf took Marcel by his hand and pulled him along.

"Daddy? Why Dixie can ion her ears?" he asked his dad curiously, but he never got an answer before his chocolaty face disappeared behind another door.

Hermione rose from her position with a somewhat triumphant expression on her face. Although, she was a bit ticked of at the treatment of that poor elf creature.

"Well, I didn't know that your son is already running this house?" She joked. "Since when did you make him _Master_ of your domain? As power-hungry as you are I would have never thought . . ." she said, before she was rudely interrupted.

He took a step forward so their faces were merely inches apart, and stared into her eyes.

"I love my son, Granger. Despite what you may think. I love him and would do anything for him. I'd die for him, a concept you should be very well aware of."

He straightened up; looming over her in a threatening way Hermione noticed the seriousness in his features.

"And just to get this straight, you will conduct yourself with the utmost respect for the time you step foot into my house to the time you leave. Is that clear?"

He grinned maliciously, having once again taken their battle field.

Hermione let out an impatient sigh. "Perfectly, but only if you refrain from calling me a mudblood," she answered in a low but firm tone of voice while keeping the eye contact.

"I cannot promise anything, but I can try," he answered sickly sweet, his Malfoy sneer back in place. Then his eyes roamed unashamed down her body, fixing on the stain on her skirt.

"Be here at seven AM sharp tomorrow, and don't be late. Oh, have I told you that you look very pretty. The stain is rather fitting, don't you think?" He grinned and added, "For a mudblood that is."

Before Hermione could say anything else, he had closed the heavy front door in her face.

"**Draco Malfoy, you are an impossible ignorant bastard**", she yelled, but only the noises of a summer afternoon answered her.


	4. Chapter 4

**4. Angry Drabble**

"I CANNOT BELIEVE THIS!" Hermione apparated with a loud crack back into the flat. She was mad. No, more than mad. She was livid. With one swing she threw her purse onto the kitchen table and kicked off her three inch slip on sandals. A quick scan at their enchanted calendar told her that each staff member was at their assigned places.

"THAT BLOODY BASTARD," she huffed angrily.

Only after she stormed into the sitting room, to get to her bedroom, she noticed six pairs of eyes staring at her.

'Oh, great,' she thought while spotting Ginny, Ron and Harry spread out on the couch and love seat. 'That's exactly what I need right now.'

"WHAT?" she snapped impatiently, knowing, full well, that Ginny had told the boys of her new job assignment as a Nanny for none other than big-arse-smug-face-idiot-extraordinaire. How lovely!

Harry was the first to speak.

"Hermione, are you alright?"

She gave him her most cutting smile and put her hands on either side of her hips.

"Why, of course dear Harry, why wouldn't I be alright," she spit out sarcastically, and turned to the red head in one swoop.

"Ginny, may I have a word?" she said with such authority, that the other girl had no choice but to follow her into Hermione's bedroom.

Banging the door shut with her foot she glared at her friend.

"Why oh why did you have nothing better to do than tell those idiotic boys about this new job? Hm?" she snapped at Ginny. "Tell me, Ginny, why?"

"Calm down, Hermione, it's not like I ran and told. You should know me by now. I'm more professional than that. It was sort of … coincidental," Ginny told her coolly, her arms crossed in front of her.

Hermione raised her eyebrows and took an angry step toward her, while pointed toward the sitting room. "You call this coincidental?"

Ginny nodded reassuringly and put a hand on Hermione's shoulder.

"Harry and Ron kept asking where you were off to. I was going to tell them that you had an emergency at the Daycare, but then Harry saw the request form on the board. Of course, the date and time of your first meeting gave it away. I'm sorry 'Me'."

Hermione sighed deeply. She couldn't believe, she had just snapped at her partner like that. It was all Malfoy's fault, she thought bitterly. "It's alright Ginny. I'm sorry for yelling at you. I shouldn't have done that."

Ginny grinned knowingly. "Oh, believe me; I knew that you were in a bad mood as soon as you apparated into the kitchen. I suppose Malfoy hasn't changed, judging by your outburst?"

Hermione snorted. "How'd you guess?"

She rounded Ginny, plumped onto the bed and stared at the ceiling.

"I would certainly tell him to shove the job in his big arse, if it weren't for the fact that he could easily per sway the Ministry officials to revoke our license."

Ginny was just about to reply when they heard a knock at the door.

"Hermione, can we come in," Harry asked cautiously.

Hermione rolled her eyes. "Fine, come in."

The door opened and admitted the two young men.

"Is it true?" Ron asked, seating himself next to Hermione a bit closer than she had liked.

"Why does Malfoy of all people want you to teach his kid, Mione?" Harry asked with a concerned tone in his voice, His hands gliding through his short black hair. It was a subconscious gesture he assumed whenever he was nervous or mad.

Hermione looked from one to the other, following up on their inquiries.

"Yes, it is true, Ron. Because he didn't know it was me, Harry. He almost withdrew his request."

"Can't you just decline?" came Ron's next query. For a moment Hermione's heart softened for Ron, staring at the handsome young man sitting next to her. His hair was passed shoulder length now, and he regularly tied it back at the nape of his neck, giving him a bad boy appearance. The knowledge, that he harbored stronger feelings for Lavender than he ever had for Hermione, pained her still. Quickly she turned off her feelings, an automatic response to any type of pain. This, she had trained herself to do since the war. It was her way of survival. She looked away, gazing out of her window, calm and collected.

"No, Ron, too much is at stake," she answered getting more annoyed with each question.

"Be careful Hermione. He's a dangerous man," Harry said importantly, brushing his hair back repeatedly.

"Yes Daddy," Hermione answered in a monotone voice, ready to hex those two into next week.

"I think you shouldn't do it, Mione," was Ron's next reply and the last one he made that day, for Hermione had jumped up, looming over him.

"Alright, that's it. I've had it with you two. I'm 21 years old, part owner of WizKidz, and I don't need you both to tell me what and what not I can do," she lowered her voice dangerously, staring daggers at Ron. "As for you, Ron, why don't you go shag your lovely lampshade and leave me be!"

With large steps she walked to the door and ripped it open.

"AND NOW OUT, OUT OF MY ROOM!" Hermione spat, while watching both young men leave her room silently. Only Harry stopped once more and throwing a portentous glance at her.

For a moment there was silence, until the girls heard the front door click shut.

Then Ginny let out a gleeful giggle.

"That was **_awesome_**, Hermione. Did you see their faces? Priceless! I wish I had my camera with me. I still have a bone to pick with Ron, anyway."

Both the girls fell into a fit of giggles and it took a while for them to calm down again.

"I have to get going. I have a meeting with a parent in half an hour, and I have to hand out next week's assignment lists to all the staff. I suppose I'll be gone for the better part of the afternoon," Ginny explained finally and got up from Hermione's bed. She flung her fire red hair back and grinned, looking just like Ron. 'They could be twins', Hermione mused.

"By the way 'Me', you have a brown spot on your skirt, did you know?"

Hermione rolled her eyes. How couldn't she have known? Making a mental note to change her clothes later, she sauntered back into the sitting room.

After Ginny had finally taken off, Hermione walked over to the fireplace, which had a direct connection to the ministry.

She stuck her head into the flames and shouted, "Bedilia Phlox, Department of Wizarding Childhood Education, please."

It took a moment before her head stopped spinning and she could see an elderly witch with an extremely long, pointy nose sitting at a desk.

"Hi there, Hermione Granger, what can I do for you?"

"Hallo Mrs. Phlox, I need copies, once again," she voiced in a business like tone.

"Of course; the usual, birth certificate, potion records, St. Mungo's health attest?"

"Yes, Mrs. Phlox," Hermione answered politely.

"Who's the child?"

"It's Marcellus, Devlin Malfoy. When do you think the papers would be ready? My first day starts tomorrow," Hermione asked, dreading the thought of having to be in the presence of one 'git' again.

"I'll get it to you this afternoon. It shouldn't be a problem, but shall I run into any difficulty, I will let you know."

Hermione nodded, thanked the witch and pulled back.

'That's done,' she thought and sat down at her desk to catch up on the mounting paperwork.

For the span of two hours all that was heard was the scratching of a quill, the ticking of a wall clock and the faint Londoner traffic.

Finally Hermione had managed to finish at least one of the piles of records, requests, bills and so on. She stretched gingerly and looked at the time. It was nearly four in the afternoon.

She got up and went back into her bedroom chucking off the clothes she wore since this morning. Then she slipped into a pair of jeans shorts and a white tank top.

She had just walked into the kitchen to fix herself some tea, when she heard the familiar crackle of the floo network. Quickly she entered the sitting room.

A green head appeared, the features slowly taking on the form of Mrs. Phlox.

"Hi there," Hermione greeted the elderly woman.

Mrs. Phlox coughed slightly and straightened her crooked glasses. Hermione could tell the woman wasn't a fan of the floo.

"Hello, Hermione, I'll come right to the point," she reached up, a pack of papers in hand and gave them to Hermione.

"Here are the potion records, the health certificate and a … how shall I say … a rather odd birth certificate. I hope this will suffice for right now, but you might want to make mention about this to Mr. Malfoy. Perhaps there has been a mistake. He might even be able to give you a correct copy of it," she explained, looking rather perplexed.

"Oh, ok," Hermione replied. "Oh and thank you."

"That's quite alright. Well, I'm off." With that the green head of Mrs. Phlox vanished in the flames.

Slowly Hermione sauntered over to the couch, all the while staring down at the papers she held in her hands. She sat down and pulled her legs up.

"Ok, what do we have here?"

She scanned over the potion records first. Those records were similar to the shot records of muggle babies. Every child had to get a series of potions against such things as dragon pox, pixie cough, murtlap fever etc. Hermione noticed pleased that Marcel was completely up to date on his potions.

Next she scanned through his health attest. His weight gain and growth had been in the normal range. He hadn't suffered from any complications during birth and neither of any diseases as far as Hermione could tell.

His development in regards to magic on the other hand seemed to have been extraordinaire.

Hermione scanned the list:

1 month: wand less levitation of a bottle for a few seconds

3 months: wand less levitation of his favorite toy for several minutes

4 months: wand less move of object from one end of the room to the other

8 months: wand less and accidental leg locker curse performed on elf

1 year: wand less apparition from bedroom into the garden

2 years: wand less . . .

She went on reading down the long list an astonished look on her face.

This young boy was amazing, just amazing. 'Quite incredulous considering that Pansy is his mother,' she thought after reading the last line.

She placed the paper next to her on the couch and put her attention to the birth certificate.

She drew her eyebrows together and shook her head slightly.

"What? This can't be," she whispered, looking over the certificate again.

_Marcellus Devlin Malfoy born June the Sixth 1998 at: not given_

_Father: Draco Lucius Malfoy ----Mother: unknown_

"That's impossible, how can this be?" she voiced out loud.

"What's that Mione?" Ginny walked into the sitting room, her cheeks flushed.

"Oh, Ginny, I didn't hear you apparate in," she looked up at her friend and co-owner, her face pale in shock.

Ginny plumped next to her on the couch and deposited her feet on the little wooden coffee table. "What's up?"

"Well, I'm not sure," Hermione answered truthfully and handed her the certificate.

"What do you make of that?" She watched Ginny looking over the piece of parchment.

"Now that's odd," was all Ginny said before scanning it again.

Hermione got up and began pacing back and forth. "It is not just odd, it's utterly impossible. We both know that wizards cannot have babies, only witches can, right?"

"Right," Ginny agreed.

"Well, then how is it possible that the father is known, but not the mother. If anything, it should be the other way around. This boy must have a mother, there is no other way. Someone gave birth to this child and it sure wasn't Malfoy."

"Maybe, they'd forgotten to write it down. Perhaps it was some sort of error," Ginny suggested.

Hermione snorted. "Do you really believe that? As picky as the Ministry is with their paperwork it's a thing of impossibility. Think about it Gin, the certificates get spelled not written on. The spells are foolproof."

"That's true," Ginny said and got up. She was in dire need for a cup of coffee after several hours of screaming and whaling at the daycare.

"Well, maybe you could ask Draco?" Ginny yelled from the kitchen, clattering around with dishes.

Hermione followed her and leaned against the doorframe.

"I'm going to, believe that. He has to tell me who the mother is. It's procedure after all."

Ginny turned around and gave her a mischievous glint. "Well good luck with that," she said and grinned.


	5. Chapter 5

**5. Who's The Mummy?**

Hermione walked out of the shower with only a towel wrapped around her. Ginny was sitting at the breakfast table looking into the screen of Hermione's laptop. She had recently discovered all the uses and fun one could have with this muggle electronic device.

"Morning," Ginny greeted her cheerily. Hermione only nodded, extremely tired and in a foul mood. She hadn't slept much that night, dreading the fact that she had to be in Malfoy's presence the next day. After she had finally managed to fall asleep, nightmares were plaguing her. Well, technically speaking they weren't nightmares, only very erotic dreams involving none other than Malfoy. 'Ick,' she thought while toweling her hair and walking toward the coffee maker. In essence, it was very disturbing and any dream that involves the ferret she naturally labeled as 'nightmare'. Why her subconscious mind thought of playing her such horrendous tricks, she didn't know. It was not like she had a thing for Malfoy. Granted, he was the hottest guy in school, but Hermione didn't care too much about looks. It was her opinion that looks would fade with age and only the inside of a person was truly important.

Ginny watched her friend silently for a minute, knowing in what condition she was in. She had to cheer her up a bit, but how?

"Um, Hermione, the weather forecast says it's going to be the hottest day for this summer. Perhaps we could go swimming this afternoon?"

Only an indefinable grunt was heard from the other.

"Maybe we could visit Fred and George; we haven't seen the two blokes in ages." She suggested next.

Ginny sighed at the lack of response and gave up for the time being. "You probably want to wear something light and comfy. I'm sure Malfoy doesn't have air conditioning."

AC was another muggle contrivance both the girls enjoyed during summer. Their flat had been newly built three years ago and held all the newest high tech equipment to make one's life comfortable.

Hermione turned around, a grievous look on her face. "Are you going to boss me around now too?" She snapped and regretted her outburst the instant she looked into the hurtful face of her friend.

"I'm sorry. I just don't know if I can do this," Hermione said with a loud sigh and sat down at the kitchen table with a fresh cup of coffee.

"Do what," Ginny asked innocently.

"You know, going to the Malfoy Mansion, "Hermione replied nervously.

"Oh 'Me', it can't be that hard. Just ignore him, for the most part, and concentrate on his son. You just have to grow a thicker skin, dear," she said, sounding just like her mother.

"Easier said than done, Ginny, and the worst part is that I really like the little guy. He's such an adorable little boy. His eyes are the deepest shade of blue you have ever seen. It's not grey like Malfoy's. He must have inherited it from his mother. You know, I only knew one person with deep blue eyes like that," Hermione marveled.

"…And who's that?" Ginny asked, grinning at the dreamy look on Hermione's face.

"Oh, my father had deep blue eyes just like him. I always wished I would have inherited his eyes, but alas, I got my mum's brown ones." Hermione sighed again, for the second time that morning and got up of the table. She placed her cup in the sink and glanced at the wall clock.

"Look at the time! I have to hurry," she shrieked and ran into her room banging the door shut.

Twenty minutes later she was standing, once again, in front of the Malfoy Mansion. She brushed down her light summer dress, which ended right above her knee, and pushed a lock of her hair behind her ears. Over her shoulder hung a large type of suitcase bag with all the necessary papers in it.

A slight breeze carried a sweet scent of roses toward Hermione. Inhaling deeply, she noticed her nerves calming down a bit.

Once again, she took the knocker in her hand and gave a few loud raps.

A few seconds later, the heavy door swung open and the same little house elf, she'd encountered the last time, stood before her.

"Hello, Morphy," she greeted him quickly.

"Hello, Miss, it's an honor to have yous here again. Master isn't quite done with his breakfast, yet, but ordered me to bring yous to him as soon as yous arrive. Follow Morphy," he said and quickly tapped down the corridor once more. This time, they walked to the left and through a double door. They crossed a huge sitting room with black leader couches and pillows shimmering in blue and green colors. The elf stopped in front of a large French door and opened it with a flick of his finger.

"Just walk out and to the left, Miss," he explained and with another flick he was gone.

Hermione stopped short on seeing the breathtaking view as soon as she had stepped outside. It was beautiful. To her right she spotted a large rose garden, the rose beds surrounding a pretty gazebo with a small fountain. There were roses in all shapes and colors and a small stone path that led to the gazebo.

Straight ahead she could see the ocean in the distance, faintly hearing the waves crashing against the shoreline. The breeze was stronger here than in front of the house.

Her eyes roamed to the left spotting a swimming pool, a sand box and the one person that brought her heart to a brief standstill.

Malfoy sat beneath a square slightly larger open gazebo with a canope stretching across the top. On each side hung light flowing curtains, probably to keep the insects out. Yet, only two sides were kept open, while the other two had been tied back.

He was seated in a recliner next to a large table, reading a paper. Occasionally, he glanced up at his son, who now walked back to his sandbox. Both were oblivious to Hermione's presence and it was good that way. Hermione had to take in a few deep breaths to calm herself before she could even remotely approach them.

The reason for that wasn't Malfoy's nastiness, but rather the fact that he wore nothing safe a pair of tan shorts, dockers, from what Hermione could make out. Instantly she was reminded of her _'Nightmares'_. His upper body was perfectly sculptured; his biceps firm and his six pack something to be envied for. From where she stood she could make out faint scars on his chest, but other than that, it was the chest of a 'Roman God', yet not bulky at all.

Hermione rolled her eyes at her own Malfoy swooning silliness and hesitantly approached the breakfast table.

"Malfoy," she called out and took another bold step coming to a standstill before him.

Draco hadn't expected her so soon and was a bit startled when he looked up to see a pair of perfectly shaped and tanned legs in front of him. His gaze rose slowly along feminine curves underneath a light summer dress, which hugged her body in exactly the right places, to soft brown curls reaching just below her breasts and the sweet face of a young woman. It took him a second to recognize the woman.

"Granger!" he exclaimed and straightened in his seat. "You are early."

"Hardly, Malfoy, to your information it is now fifteen minutes past seven," she corrected him with a stern look on her face.

Draco rolled his eyes and motioned for her to sit down.

"Take a seat, Granger. Would you like something to drink? Coffee, tea?" he asked, but Hermione shook her head.

"Perhaps something to eat?" he offered.

"No, thank you, Malfoy, I've already had my breakfast."

She placed her briefcase on the table, crossed her legs gingerly and looked around.

"You have beautiful gardens, Malfoy," Hermione said, attempting to mask her uneasiness by assessing her surroundings.

Draco watched her closely. Every move of her body was gracious and flowing and he couldn't help but smile for a second, until she turned back to him.

"Thank you, Granger. I believe that is the first compliment I received from you since we've known each other."

She quickly shot him a glance before she continued.

"Before I can begin to teach your son the basic pre-school curriculum, I will have to go over some papers with you. There are also consent forms you will have to sign," she explained in businesslike tone, concentrating on pulling the papers out of her bag.

Draco watched her and found himself once again ensconced in the young witch opposite him. Her small hands reached into her briefcase and deftly retrieved a small stack of parchments. She licked her lips, while concentrating on the task. Draco caught himself watching her unabashed, wishing he could ravage those rosy, full lips right this minute. He shifted uncomfortably in his seat, his pants getting tighter around certain parts. Why did she always have such an impact on him?

"Daddy, look!"

Marcel jumped up and pointed at a clump of sand he had been working on since Hermione's arrival. As soon as he spotted her, his little feet jumped out of the box and hurried across the stone patio toward them. He wore the same type of shorts like his father.

"The nanny, the nanny is here," he shouted happily and came to a halt next to Hermione.

She beamed down at his cute face, the sand colored locks bouncing in the sunshine.

"Hi there, Marcel, how do you do?" she asked him and shook his sand covered hand.

"Oh no, we give hugs," he explained and wrapped his little arms around Hermione's waist (as far as his arms could reach).

Once again, Hermione was surprised at the feelings this little boy invoked in her. She shifted in her seat slightly and hugged him back, sticking her nose in the mass of golden curls. The cinnamon scent of his hair enveloped her. She could have hugged the little guy forever, if Draco hadn't interrupted their intimate moment by clearing his throat.

"Marcel, why don't you go back to your sandbox, so that your new nanny and I can get through the paperwork, ok big guy?" he coaxed him and got up, lifting Marcel into his arms and carrying him back to the sandbox.

Draco had watched Hermione in awe at her interaction with his son, noticing that Marcel had already formed an unusual attachment to Granger. A pang of envy shot through his chest at the sight of him hugging her tightly. She was here to teach his son how to control his magical powers and **not** to become Marcel's mother. He would have to talk to her about that.

He sauntered back over and sat down, reclining in the chair.

"Let's get one thing straight, Granger," he said in low, deliberate tones. "I don't need a replacement mommy for my son. As you can see, I'm perfectly capable of taking care of him. All I need is someone to guide him with his magical powers and to get him ready for Hogwarts."

A perplexed expression flitted across Hermione's face before it settled into a scowl.

"Whatever makes you think I want to replace his mommy, Malfoy? I have absolutely no inclination to slip into a role other than this teaching position, so stop dreaming, fer . . . ," she spouted at him, before her hand came up to her mouth.

Draco leaned forward, an icy glint in his eyes. "Why don't you finish your sentence, mudblood?" he hissed, though, keeping his voice down.

"Stop calling me that," Hermione snapped angrily, shuffling the papers.

A smirk appeared on his face. "I will stop, if you stop calling me a ferret."

"Fine! Can we go on now? There is still a lot of ground to cover and I'll have to be at the daycare this afternoon."

Draco nodded and reclined again. "Go on, then. I didn't stop you, now did I?"

"Didn't you?"

His lips thinned slightly at her reply, but he held his tongue, if only for the sake of getting her out of his hair as soon as possible.

She placed the first paper before him and held out a quill.

"This is a consent form that permits me to teach your son. The fine print isn't important. It only states articles 12, 15, 16 and 21 of the wizarding childcare laws."

Draco scanned the paper and then, with a grin on his face, began reading the fine print.

Hermione rolled her eyes and sighed. 'That's so typical. I should have known . . .This is going to take longer than I had hoped,' she thought, put off at his mistrust for her.

After he had finally finished, he took the quill out of her hand. Only for a fraction of a second his fingers touched hers and a jolt of electricity passed through both of them.

Shocked, Hermione pulled back her hand.

Draco looked baffled for a moment but then signed the paper.

'He's left handed,' Hermione noticed astonished.

She picked up the next paper, placing it in front of Draco.

"This allows me to collect the hourly rate I get paid for being your son's nanny. All you have to do is put in the number of hours per week you want your son to be taught and sign it at the bottom. The maximum amount allowed is 20 hours per week."

Draco looked up from the paper and straight into Hermione's eyes, which brought a shiver down her back and a pinkish hue into her cheeks.

He grinned and averted his gaze back to the paper.

He finished and handed the paper back to Hermione, who shoved it into her briefcase.

"One last thing that needs a signature is the insurance form, in case something happens to me or to my charge," she informed him.

"Alright, Malfoy, that's all," Hermione said after he had handed her the final form, and shoved the paper into her bag.

"Oh, before I forget. There is one more thing I need to discuss with you. I happen to have a copy of Marcel's birth certificate from the ministry and there is no indication as to who his mother is. I need this document for my files and wondered if you would happen to have a complete certificate?"

Draco took his time to answer and watched her unperturbed.

Right then, a shrill voice drifted over to them.

"Draco, sweetie, there you are. I've been looking all over for you."

Hermione turned her head and what she saw made her blood nearly boil.

A familiar young woman with long blond hair sauntered over to them. She was barely clad in a thin silken beach dress, which was very low cut in the back. Said dress was so thin, it didn't leave much to the imagination. Let's just say it was obvious that the woman didn't wear anything underneath.

She wrapped her arms suggestively around Draco and kissed him. Then she sat down at the table.

"Aren't you going to introduce us, Draco?" the young lady asked as she eyed Hermione with disdain.

"This is Tracey Davis and this is Hermione Granger, Marcel's new teacher. I suppose you remember her, Tracey? She was in the same year with us at Hogwarts."

"Oh really, not a Slytherin, though, I would know that."

Hermione had been silently watching their interaction, but quickly jumped to answer the question. "Oh, no, I was in Gryffindor house," she answered brusquely, prepared to stand up.

"Ahh, a Gryffindor. No wonder I haven't seen you before, but I must say you also don't have a memorable appearance." Tracey gave her a condescending smile.

Hermione nearly jumped on her, ready to scratch her eyes out, but she composed and gave her most charming smile.

"Funny you should mention that. I don't remember you either. You didn't happen to have been in the more accelerated academic classes at Hogwarts?"

"What do you mean?" Tracey asked with a dumb look on her face.

Draco grinned. He always had a knack for cat fights, but he knew he had to stop it right there. He wouldn't put it past Granger to hex Tracey into an unrecognizable mess.

"What she means is that you are not very smart. Now scoot, Tracey. I'll catch up with you after I'm done here. Maybe we could continue were we left of in the bedroom earlier, or perhaps you want to try it in the pool?" Draco purred huskily, leaving a trail of kisses on Tracey's arm until he reached her neck and finally her mouth.

Hermione tapped her foot impatiently getting angrier with each second, until she had enough. She jumped up and grabbed her briefcase.

"As fun as it is to watch you playing tonsil tennis with your partner, I must be off. Good day Mr. Malfoy," Hermione said and walked away from the table and the disturbing scene.

The audacity of him! How could he act with such unrestraint in front of her and more so in front of his son? Not to mention the fact that he allowed this harlot to walk around in the presence of a child with hardly a shred of clothing covering her.

Hermione was livid and wanted nothing more than to get back to her flat. She had to calm down her nerves before she would have to make her appearance in the Day Care Center that afternoon.

She stepped through the French doors and crossed the large sitting room. She had nearly made it half way across the hall when a strong hand took hold of her arm, squeezing it a bit tighter than necessary and spun her body around.

"Where are you off to, Granger? We aren't done, yet," Draco breathed a little heavier. Apparently he had taken the whole way in a sprint to catch up with her, before she could apparate.

"Let go of me, Malfoy. I have, unlike you, a few other things to do than to sit there and watch you make out with your newest edition to your collection. I'm surprised you took the time to dislodge your lips from hers to follow me. Oh, what an honor…" she hissed at him, but he only grinned down at her and pulled her toward one of the doors to the right. Hermione began to panic, trying all the while to pry his hand from her arm to no avail. Once he managed to pull her into a large office, he closed the door and let go of her.

"WHAT IS THE MEANING OF THIS, MALFOY?" Hermione spat and rubbed her aching arm.

He leaned against a large mahogany desk and crossed his arms. "I told you, we aren't done, yet. Now be a good nanny and sit down."

Hermione refused, shaking her head and gripping her briefcase closer to her body. She pulled out her wand from the hidden compartment in her briefcase.

"Look, Malfoy, perhaps it would be best for me to deny your request for a teaching nanny, seeing that you are busier with your sexual exploits than with raising your son. Otherwise, I might have to resort to informing the ministry of you conduct in the presence of a minor, and they won't take that very well."

"The ever prude Granger," he smirked clicking his tongue. "I don't think you will get far with your threats, for it being that I nearly own the Ministry of Magic," he fobbed, his face turning into a thoughtful expression. "Besides, I'm well aware of my duties as a father and never jeopardize his well-being, neither physically or morally. I think you are just jealous? Why else would you care so much about Tracey? Or, perhaps the reason lies in your anger about your _non-existent_ love life?" He drew one eyebrow up suggestively, a sarcastic glint in his eyes.

Hermione shot angry daggers at him, her face flushed crimson. She knew she had to calm herself, before she ended up in Azkaban for killing the Wizarding World's most eligible bachelor. Why did he get to her like that? No other guy had ever accomplished of pushing her buttons so easily.

"I don't think that is any of your business, Malfoy," she huffed, clenching her teeth together and gripping her wand tighter, hidden behind her bag.

He only gave her a nonchalant grin. "I bet you never even had sex, Granger. Even better, _I bet_ you never held a _hard, long staff_ in your hand." This comment he followed up with a suggestive hand gesture.

"**SHUT UP, MALFOY**," she screamed in utter disgust.

"I knew it! You never even saw one in the _flesh_, haven't you?" He went on, thoroughly enjoying her discomfort. He didn't know why, but this young muggle witch just drove him to torture her. She always had. He loved seeing her mad, it excited him to no end.

"How does it feel to still be a virgin at twenty-one-years of age?"

Draco watched her boil over at that point and prepared for the outburst.

"I'm not a virgin, Malfoy. Unlike your stupid beliefs, I have had sex before," she hissed, wondering the next instant why she was discussing her intimate life with him at all.

"Oh, really? Who was it that impaled our precious know-it-all onto his large staff and stole her innocence?" he asked sarcastically, a knowing look in his eyes.

Hermione watched him confused. "It was . . . was . . .I was drunk," she stuttered around, avoiding his eyes.

"You don't remember? That's rather sad, Granger. Even I remember my first fuck."

He looked at her and cursed himself the next instant for acting so infantile. It didn't suit a respective Malfoy to ask such question. Why had he done it? He shook his head lightly.

The fights with Malfoy always exhausted Hermione. She felt a headache coming on and took a seat in a chair nearest her.

"Why are you doing this to me, Malfoy? Why do you have to still act like the brat you were in school?" she asked defeated, shoving her wand back into the compartment and rubbing her temples with her fingers.

He shifted around a bit and leaned back. "Because it's fun to watch you squirm."

Hermione looked up at him. His gorgeous hair was tied back and hung down to the middle of his back. His chest, although marred with faint scars, was perfectly shaped. She had to admit, he was the epitome of a beautiful male. His skin was pale compared to hers, yet creamy. Involuntarily her eyes roamed downward, over his perfect abs to his narrow hips.

"You like what you see, Granger?" He asked after following her eyes.

"No!" Hermione answered him coldly and jumped up. "I have to go, Malfoy. I'm running late and still have lots to do. Unlike you, I have no time to stand before a mirror and admire myself all day long. I will go over your papers and figure out a schedule that suits us both." She was ready to leave, but stopped.

"I almost forgot. Do you have another birth certificate?"

He contemplated her question for a minute and then answered: "No, sorry!"

"Then, can you at least tell me who the mother is? I need this information for our records." Hermione was hopeful to finally find out the question that had been nagging at her in the back of her mind. She watched him patiently.

What should he say? That the mother had died in the war? That she had run off? Draco was at a loss, but knew he had to answer to it sooner or later. Hermione was relentless when it came to getting answers to all her questions. He'd known her for nearly ten years and there never had been an exception to the rule.

He took a deep breath. "Let's just say, she was beneath me, unworthy of acknowledgement at the time," He answered curtly, pushing off the desk and walking toward Hermione until he stopped merely inches before her. She felt his magic radiating from his body and the scent of his cologne nearly drove her insane. The worst part was that he knew exactly how it affected her. It was high time for Hermione to get out from under his gaze. She had only one more question.

"So, she was a muggle born?" she asked and noticed him flinch.

'That Granger, ever so observant,' he thought.

"I think it's time for you to go, Granger. I'm tired of questions now. I get them all too often from the press. I'm sure you can find your way out. Good day."

With that, he strut to the other side of the room and vanished behind one of the many doors.

Perplexed and confused Hermione made her way out into the tranquil summer air. Before long, she had apparated back to London.


	6. Chapter 6

**6. Suits of Armor**

Despite what people may have thought of Draco Malfoy, he had always loved to work, the more the merrier. Even in school he was often found ensconced in several books at a time, soaking up every bit of information he could retain. One might even say that, if it hadn't been for stress factors such as becoming part of Voldemort's minions and the times he had to spend learning about the dark arts, he would have certainly outdone Granger in school.

A grim mood gripped him, as he was sitting at his desk surrounded by stacks of parchments, letters and folders. His eyes involuntarily chanced upon the faded scar on his left forearm; the last reminder of Voldemort's reign. He couldn't help but ask himself how things would have turned out, if Voldemort had never been born. What if, he never had to bare this ugly mark forever burned into his skin and all the prejudices that came along with it? What if, his father had never drilled into him that muggles are beneath purebloods? What if, he would have been able to marry the mother of his son, instead of having to deny his love for her? Was it love? Considering that Draco spent nearly every waking moment thinking of her, yes, I'd say you could call it love. It wasn't as if he had a hard time being reminded of her. Every time he looked into his son's face or watched him play, she was there, haunting his thoughts.

With a slight shiver, Draco got up and moved to a handsome, antique Tudor chest. With a swish of his wand the lock clicked and the top sprang open. There wasn't a chance to find anything valuable in it, at least not to the random bystander, who might have expected to discover any type of material value, such as jewelry or perhaps rare potions. Yet, for Draco it contained items of most precious worth. There were pictures of him and his friends during happier times, his son's baby footprint on a piece of parchment, a strand of corn colored hair from his mother, who had been killed three years earlier by the hands of his father in a jealous rage, and a pensieve for the thoughts he didn't want to carry around with him. Carefully he reached inside, his fingers deftly flipping a silken piece of cloth to each side, revealing a chestnut lock of hair. He let his fingers glide ever so gently over it, a reminiscent expression on his face. It was the only piece reminding him of the life he could have had, if things had been different.

'What if . . ., ' he pondered for a moment before shutting the Tudor with a forceful bang. Fighting against ones alter ego was never easy. Sometimes, Draco wondered if he was on the verge of going mad. What else could explain his strange mood swings and the forbidden thoughts he was sure weren't his? He had to get a grip on himself.

After all, he was a Malfoy and had a name to uphold. Malfoys were always in control. Wasn't that what his father preached to him for years?

With long strides he rushed back to his desk. He had to get through his work or he'll never catch up.

Thinking of all the businesses he owned now, he had to grin. He couldn't help but marvel at the success he had worked so hard to attain, since his father was in Azkaban. Within the last three years Draco had doubled the Malfoy's assets, where as it took his father 12 years to even come close to Draco's achievements. The secret lie in the way Draco treated people versus his father, who had been too stuck up for his liking. Every now and then, it was vital to lower oneself to the level of others. Draco had learned quickly that with a smile and a few clever compliments, the deals were flying into his busy hands.

He flipped through the papers and began reading several new contracts. Draco had been working for nearly two hours, completely oblivious to his surroundings, when a loud crash shook him out of his deep concentration.

Morphy stormed into the office, completely out of breath. He bent over and placed his gnarly hands on his knees.

Draco jumped up from his seat, dreading the worst once again.

"What in Merlin's name is going on, Morphy? I've work to do," he spat angrily at the house elf.

"Sorry, Sir, Morphy came to inform Master Malfoy, that the young Master is flying up and down the stairs again . . . on his baby broom," the elf wheezed, looking scared.

"Well, why haven't you gotten him down from it?" Malfoy was livid.

"Because, Sir, young Master has . . . has your wand."

"WHAT?" Draco glanced briefly at his desk to insure his wand wasn't there and then rushed through the door into the hallway.

He was greeted by Dixie, who was hanging from the large chandelier and spinning around at neck breaking speed. Marcel giggled heartily, his father's wand in one hand pointing at Dixie, and his other hand holding on to the little broom, an obviously gleeful expression on his young face.

"MARCEL, DEVLIN MALFOY, RELEASE DIXIE AT ONCE!" Draco's voice boomed, echoing of the walls.

His youngster gave him a startled look, lowered the wand, and Dixie flew against the wall only to bounce off and hit a suit of armor, it crashing unceremoniously to the floor in a heap of metal.

Draco breathed heavily stepping closer to Marcel. "Now, son, be a good boy and give me my wand," he coaxed, hoping he could avoid further damage. An adult wand in the hands of a three year old was just as bad as having a blind man drive a muggle car. In other words, anything could possibly happen.

His son gave him a big grin.

"Daddy, look what I can do! Look!"

"NO, MARCEL, PLEASE DO. . . ," was all Draco could get out, before he found himself constricted, his whole body squashed together and his face hidden beneath, it seemed, an iron mask, similar to the deatheater mask.

His anger boiled over upon noticing that his son had successfully hexed him into one of the suits of armor. His breathing was more difficult, since the suit was way too small on him. With all his strength he tried to bust out of the iron contraption, but to no avail. 'Why did they make those things so tough?' he thought bitterly, before addressing his son again.

"Marcel? Marcel where are you?"

"I'm here," Marcel giggled and knocked on the outside of the suit. "Daddy, you sound funny in there," he mentioned, listening to the subdued cursing of his father.

"Listen, Marcel. Take my wand and get me out of this thing, ok?" Draco explained, all the while trying to remain calm.

"Pease walk, daddy, pease. I wanna see, I wanna see," Marcel shouted with joy.

"No, boy, I'm NOT going to walk in this thing. Now get me out of here," Draco could barely keep his voice under control. He knew if he was sounding too harshly, he might as well remain in this suit for the span of wizarding history.

Morphy stepped closer and Draco could see the house elf through the cracks of the armor.

"Perhaps, Morphy could try and get the wand, Sir?" the elf asked cautiously, knowing there would be hell to pay after his Master was finally free.

"Well, don't just stand there. Do it!" Draco hissed.

There was a reason why the elf was called Morphy. Some elves had special powers upon their regular powers, and so did Morphy. He could move with lightening speed, too fast for the eye to follow, from one spot to the other.

He watched the boy who had sat down on the bottom stair, twirling his master's wand. The next second he was standing near the stairs, holding the wand successfully in his hand. With a quick swish, he had managed to release an aching Master, who spilled out of the armor onto the floor.

Draco jumped awkwardly to his feet, acciod his wand, and rounded on the house elves.

"WHY DIDN'T YOU DO THIS EARLIER YOU GOOD FOR NOTHING … AHH. GET OUT OF MY SIGHT. YOU KNOW WHAT TO DO," he growled dangerously, staring down at the two elves quivering before him.

They vanished quickly with a flick of their fingers, no doubt to punish themselves for not paying more attention to the young boy.

Then, Draco turned to his son, his eyes glaring daggers at him.

"Marcel, how many times have I told you not to play with my wand?" He growled deeply.

Marcel looked sheepishly at his father and stuck his thumb in his mouth.

He held up his other little hand and showed Draco three fingers.

"shishdy shichskimes?" Marcel mumbled; his thumb firmly lodged between his gums.

"What was that?" Draco asked, stepping closer and looming over his son?

Marcel pulled his thumb out with a plop. "Sixty six times," he repeated and a sly smile crept onto his little face. It was no secret that the boy could count just as well as he did everything else. He certainly would never have problems in Arithmancy once he started at Hogwarts.

"THAT'S NOT WHAT I ASKED," Draco yelled at him in a rage.

"Yes you did, daddy, you ask how many . . ." Marcel couldn't finish so quickly had Draco snatched his arm and pulled him toward Marcel's bed chambers, all the while reprimanding Marcel for his cheek to talk back to his father.

Once inside the bedroom, he sat Marcel onto the bed and gave him a stern look, watching the boy's face contort into a pout. Soon a steady stream of tears began making their way down his cheeks.

"You are on punishment, young man. Until dinner you are to remain in your room and think about what you have done. And if I ever see you touch my wand again . . . " Draco didn't finish his sentence. Frankly, he wouldn't know what to do, if such a thing was to happen again. He loved his son and had a hard time being tough on him as it were. He had sworn to himself that he would never become like his father.

Draco got up, but before he left, another thought struck him.

His wand had been lying next to him on his desk all afternoon, and he was sure Marcel hadn't stepped into his office. He drew his eyebrows together in thought and turned back to his son still hiccoughing something awful.

"How did you manage to get hold of my wand, Marcel?"

The young boy looked up at his dad, a pouting expression on his face. Then, he lifted his arm above his head.

"Acciooooo," he shouted, before another great hiccough shook him.

That was truly amazing, even for Malfoy. He had to admit, his son was turning into a prodigy. From now on, he had to be careful on what spells he used while Marcel was in his present. It seemed his son was too quick on the uptake.

Grumbling, Draco left the room and closed the door. He tapped the statue of a sphinx, which sprang to life and placed itself before his son's door to make certain he couldn't leave his room.

Still peevish at his son's latest prank, he made his way back down. He was in dire need for a drink.

Something, clearly, had to be done, he thought. Perhaps the amount of time he had requested for the tutoring would have to be increased?

He had already given her quite a full schedule and had been surprised that she hadn't taken a look at it, at the time. Draco couldn't help but grin. She probably wasn't going to be too happy after she saw the stiff schedule. He had requested for her to show up everyday for 6 hours, weekends off, of course. But perhaps he would change the amount to 8 hours a day, including Saturdays. His son needed a firm hand and if anybody had a firm hand, it was Granger. Often, Draco had witnessed her setting Weasel and Scarhead straight whenever they had done something stupid. She was the one encouraging the boys to study. Without her, they would have undoubtedly failed their NEWTS. Her childcare education business was booming and wizards from all over the country got themselves on the long waiting list to enroll their children. Clearly she was doing something right, he thought. Yes, if anyone could teach his son how to behave, it was her.

Draco's mind was set. He quickly grabbed a piece of parchment and jotted down a few words to Granger, including the new revised list. Then he summoned one of his eagle owls, a large black one, and tied the letter to its leg.

"103 Govett Crescent, London," he whispered to the owl and watched as the large bird opened his big wings, pushed off, and flew out the window.

* * *

Thanks so much to you all who reviewed this story. I've never been very good with writing, but I love Harry Potter and all the other characters so much, that my fantasies need a vent. I'm not going to take up much room here on this page, adressing everyone individually. I just wanted to show my appreciation for all that left a message. I think it's fairer that way. 

This chapter is a bit short, but I wanted to simply give a bit of an insight into Draco's life with his son. The next chapter will certainly involve Hermione, again.

I can't say who the mother is, the suspension is even killing me. I'm sure my muse will let me know sooner or later, but I promise it'll be a shock for all parties involved, accept for Draco of course. Thanks again, you guys XOXOXO


	7. Chapter 7

**7. Doing Ones Duty**

A bright flash, followed by a loud rumble, struck the building as Hermione made her way down the corridor of the daycare center. It had been extremely hot all day and the summer storm brought little relief.

The daycare center was located in Diagon Alley near Gringotts. Ginny had found the run-down building for rent a few years ago and after fixing it up, it had turned into a perfect place for children.

She approached the large playroom and could hear the faint sound of kids' voices drifting through the door. Carefully, as not to disturb their study hour, she opened the door and slipped in. There were only a few minutes left, until the children would be able to play again, so Hermione seated herself on a chair near the back and waited.

"Yes, that's right Mr. Finnigan; Hippogriffs are very dangerous and only a trained witch or wizard should approach them. If it so happens and you shall run into one, remain eye contact and bow." Violet explained, walking up and down before the class.

Then she smiled down at her charges. "Alright, you guys, we are done for today. It's playtime." Amidst the children's cheerful response, she pulled out her wand and the tables and chairs vanished. In its place an assortment of toys appeared all around the room, including a large round table for the children to sit at.

Violet was one of Hermione's oldest and best employees. She was also Vanessa's sister. They were both in their late twenties, were married, and had children of their own; hence their extensive experience was something to be envied for.

Hermione got up and walked toward the front.

"Hello Violet! I'm impressed! You have a good hand with these youngsters," Hermione complimented her and gave her a quick hug.

Violet blushed slightly and motioned for Hermione to follow her into the small adjoining office. She pushed the button of an old, transformed muggle radio and leaned toward it.

"Colleen, the kids are done with their study time. Please come and keep an eye on them," she said into the radio. It crackled through the loud speaker.

"Alright, I'll be there in a second," a voice answered, drifting through it.

Hermione dropped her bag on the floor and leaned against the desk.

Violet turned toward her, and for the first time Hermione noticed a disturbed look on the other's face.

"You have some news for me?" Hermione approached the issue gently. She had never seen Violet so utterly troubled.

Violet brushed her purple hair out of her face and took a deep breath.

"Yes, I have. I've been watching little Zola for a while now and something has been striking me as odd," she began, unsure on how to continue.

Hermione drew up her eyebrows in question. "Zola Zabini? Blaise's daughter?"

Violet nodded. "Correct! She has been displaying a certain behavior, that leads me to believe that … perhaps she's being abused, if you know what I mean."

Hermione swallowed and shook her head. "No, I don't know what you mean. Well, I do, but . . . could you please explain? I need more details than that," she urged the other woman on.

Violet plumped onto a chair and took another deep breath.

"I mainly noticed it, after young Tom Turpin came up to me and told me he wasn't going to play with Zola anymore. After enquiring why, he told me she would request for him to ….**_do_** certain things with her."

Hermione could tell this was a very uncomfortable subject for Violet, but she had to know exactly what was going on.

"What are these **_certain things_** he spoke of?" Hermione asked, trying not to sound too worried.

"Perhaps it's best if I give you her file. I noted down everything that has been going on," Violet suggested. She got up and walked over to a filing cabinet. With a swish of her wand the drawer opened and the file flew into Hermione's hands.

Hermione took a seat at the desk and opened the file, dreading what she would find in there.

"Excuse me, but I'll be in the children's room. No doubt Colleen needs a hand," she said apologetically and left.

What could be so bad that even Violet was barely able to explain what was going on? Hermione shook her head lightly and opened the file.

What she read in those notes made her nearly loose her lunch. Her eyes flew over each entry faster and faster, not believing what she was reading. She knew Blaise Zabini had been still in Hogwarts when he got a Ravenclaw girl pregnant, but there was no excuse for any type of abuse.

"Oh my god, what is this monster doing to you," Hermione whispered, tears beginning to form in her eyes. She couldn't believe it. Blaise Zabini, the handsome, dark Slytherin Wizard, who shared a classroom with her, was sexually abusing his six year old daughter.

Anger began flooding through Hermione's veins. How could he? An innocent girl, barely six years old….

She got up and opened the door to the playroom. Letting her eyes roam around, she soon spotted the pretty little girl with dark brown hair and almond shaped, green eyes.

She walked toward the girl and smiled at her. "Zola, may I have a word with you?"

Zola looked at her with big eyes and Hermione could tell she was afraid. "Don't worry Zola; you are not in any trouble. I just want to have a chat with you." Hermione explained calmly and gave her a warm smile.

Zola nodded and took Hermione's hand, before disappearing back into the little office.

* * *

Two hours later, Hermione apparated into the kitchen of her flat. She had nearly splinched herself in her anger about little Zola's predicament.

Ginny was standing at the stove, cooking. She was flushed from the boiling pots and pans and a few tendrils of her red hair clung to the side of her face. Turning briefly, she summoned a large bowl toward her.

"Hi, 'Me'", Ginny greeted Hermione cheerily, before busying herself with setting the table.

Hermione didn't answer. Her face was drawn and white. She walked toward the sitting room, as if she had been put under the Imperius curse and plumped into the love seat.

"What happened to you?" Ginny asked, puzzled at her friends behavior, and followed her into the sitting room.

Ginny was shocked to see tears in her eyes after she finally looked up. She rushed to Hermione and placed a comforting arm around her.

"You look like you've just seen a dementor. What's wrong, Mione? Was Draco that bad?" She asked carefully.

"No, that's not it. It's the little Zabini girl," Hermione answered and handed Ginny the file.

"It seems she's been sexually abused by her father. I cannot believe Blaise would do such a thing. He seemed relatively nice, compared to the other Slytherins in my year. I just can't imagine why he would do that to his own flesh and blood." Hermione looked helplessly into Ginny's eyes while chewing her bottom lip nervously. "She's only six years old, Ginny! Six years old!"

Ginny opened the file and scanned through the parchments. Apparently this abuse had been going on for a while. Zola had developed mood swings and was displaying moments of extreme anger. At other times she wouldn't let anyone touch her and upon changing her clothes after a bathroom accident, Violet had noticed bruises on the girl's inner thighs. But the most disturbing entry, Ginny read, was when Tom Purtin refused to play with Zola. Upon being questioned as to why, he told Violet that Zola had forced him to undo his pants and perform certain acts with her, explaining to him that daddy's do this sort of thing.

Ginny couldn't read on. She dropped the file onto the coffee table and placed her head in her hands, her arms leaning on her knees. This certainly had killed her appetite.

For a moment there was silence, until Hermione spoke up again.

"We have to get this poor girl away from her father. First, she needs a physical examination."

"What about her mother?" Ginny asked. "Does she know?"

Hermione shook her head. "Zola's mother died during the war. He's raising the child on his own."

"I see," Ginny sighed and got up, pacing back and forth in front of the fire place.

"We have to inform the ministry of this, Ginny. I will go right away," Hermione got up and grabbed the file.

"Alright, 'Me', I will apparate to the daycare and see, if I cannot keep Zola with me until the ministry decides how to proceed. I hope they decide quickly. In only an hour she will be picked up by her father." Ginny grabbed her light summer cloak and gave Hermione a hug. "Don't worry, 'Me'. Everything will be alright."

Hermione waited for Ginny to leave and then took the floo into the Ministry of Magic. She only hoped Mrs. Phlox hadn't left early.

Briskly, she walked across the Atrium and down one of the halls toward the Wizarding Childcare Division, while searching through her bag for Zola's file. Whilst combing threw the heap of never ending papers, she didn't notice a dark robe stepping toward her from the opposite direction. Only after she landed awkwardly onto her bottom and a sharp pain shot up her spine, did she look up to see Malfoy sneering down at her. Apparently the bump hadn't affected him one bit.

"Geez, Granger, I thought you had stopped doing that," he smirked and held out his hand for her. She took it and was lifted effortlessly back into a standing position.

Draco noticed right away that something was different about her, but he couldn't figure out why. He watched as she crouched down and shoved all the papers into her bag, a flustered expression on her face.

'What's wrong Granger? You don't even say thank you?" he mocked her and crossed his arms in front of his chest. "Are you upset that you can't even handle your own feet?"

Within a split second Hermione had jumped up and rushed forward, stopping barely an inch before him, glaring at him menacingly.

"Why don't you just sod off, Malfoy. I have no time for your infantile crap today," she hissed.

Draco jumped slightly at the feel of a pointy object poking into his abdomen, her wand nicely hidden between his impeccable robes.

He lifted up both arms in defeat. "Merlin, Hermione, I didn't realize you were that uptight."

She swallowed and withdrew her wand slowly. 'Did he just call me Hermione?' she thought confused, while placing her wand back into the hidden compartment of her bag.

"Have you received my owl post, yet?" Draco asked, raising an eyebrow.

Hermione looked more confused, if that was even possible. "Owl Post?"

Draco nodded.

"No, no post and no owls," she stumbled so badly over her words, Draco had never seen her this way.

Hermione felt a headache coming on. She really had no time for this right now. The only importance was to get this file to Mrs. Phlox. Time was short.

Hermione had just rounded Draco, who still watched her with a bemused glint in his eyes, when the very object of her complaint approached.

Blaise Zabini walked with large steps toward them and stopped next to Malfoy, clapping a hand on the other man's shoulder.

"Hi there, mate, thanks for waiting. So, do you have plans for tonight?" He asked with his most charming smile while gazing at Hermione. "I was going to invite you over. I'm having a little party. Oh, hello Ms. Granger," he added and bowed his head slightly. Hermione nearly bit her tongue off in the attempt to keep quiet. She couldn't jeopardize her "mission" to bring a child molester to justice.

"Depends, what kind of party is it?" Draco asked a mischievous smirk on his lips.

"Bring your current partner is all I'm going to say," Blaise answered, lowering his voice, as if Hermione wasn't able to hear him, although she stood only inches away, baffled and stiff at his audacity to act as if nothing was wrong.

Draco shook his head. "I can't mate. I'd love to come, but other more pressing issues have come up," he said with a glance into Hermione's direction. He placed his hand near his mouth and added, "I can't afford to piss of my new nanny."

The bile rose into her throat, watching Blaise act so innocently. She could have ripped the smirk of his face, punch and kick him, twist his balls, hex him until only a heap of flesh and bones were left of him, but she had to remain calm.

"Sorry, but I have a pressing matter that's in need of my attention. Good day," she said through clenched teeth, nodded at both men curtly and walked on down the corridor.

"What's wrong with her?" Blaise asked, as soon as Hermione was out of earshot.

Draco shrugged his shoulders. "She's always been a bit uptight, Blaise, you should know that," he answered with a grin.

Draco glanced back, but Hermione had already disappeared behind one of the many doors, before he followed Blaise out of the building.

Something was definitely wrong with Granger. Draco was sure of that. He had sensed it

as soon as he had set eyes on her in the corridor. The funny thing was that her animosity seemed to be directed toward Blaise much more than toward himself. But what could his good friend Blaise possibly have done to tick her off like that? He certainly would have to find out.

* * *

Hermione knocked on the door of room number 2301 of the Childcare Division and entered without waiting for an invitation.

Mrs. Phlox looked up from her work, a bit startled and slightly peeved at the rude interruption.

"Oh, Ms. Granger, it's you. For a moment I thought . . . Merlin's left shoe, what's the matter with you?" Instantly, she saw the deathly pale face of the younger woman and knew something wasn't right.

Hermione stepped close to the desk and placed the file in front of Mrs. Phlox.

"We are in need of an urgent investigation. A child's health and well-being is at stake. It can be assumed that Zola Zabini has been severely abused for a number of months now. Here is her file with daily entries on everything my employees have observed." Hermione plumped defeated into a chair, rubbing her temples.

"Oh, Ginny Weasley is currently keeping her in her charge. We thought it best not to let Blaise Zabini pick up his daughter from the daycare," Hermione added with a deep, shuddering sigh.

Mrs. Phlox stared at her for a moment. It was clear that she had to digest the news.

"Wait here," she instructed and she stepped into the fireplace sprinkling floo powder at her feet.

"Minister Scrimgeour's office!"

* * *

Thanks so mucho to everyone for all the reviews.

To the many reviewers who asked if Hermione is the mother, it will be revealed soon. Probably within the next two chapters. Hope that helps.

This chapter might seem a bit out of sorts, but I have a little twist in mind and so therefore it's a vital part. Besides, Hermione always struck me as a social kind of person, seeing that she was desperately trying to free house-elves. I think she'd do anything to help abused children in need for someone to step in to safe them. Hope you'll enjoy.


	8. Chapter 8

**8. Deals With A Slytherin**

Trailing along the length of the office, Hermione paced back and forth, nervously. The office was not very big. It had an odd shape; two of the walls opposite one another, had different lengths, hence, the side where the desk was located, was much smaller than the other. The first time Hermione had come here, she almost got sick just from being in here, playing tricks on her vision. The entire Ministry was built of stone, dating back to the 1500s. There were no pictures on the walls, the grey color giving it a dismal appearance. The window wasn't much better with it's out of sort angles, too small to let in much light.

A deep sigh escaped her lips and every so often she stared at the fireplace, hoping Mrs. Phlox would finally return with some news, but so far there was no sign of her.

"What is taking so long?" Hermione spoke out to herself. 'This is ridiculous. What is there to decide?' she contemplated, cursing the slow grinding mills of the Ministry of Magic. She had no doubt they would decide in favor of the little girl, or would they?

Slowly Hermione was beginning to worry. Perhaps Mrs. Phlox wasn't the best choice to plead her case. She was an old, nice lady, not very pushy or bossy; maybe a little too nice.

Hermione had almost given up on Mrs. Phlox to show up, when a loud crackle announced someone's arrival.

The long nose materialized first, the uncanny sign of the ministry worker. Then the rest of Bedilia Phlox appeared and stepped out.

Hermione moved closer in anticipation, smiling at the older witch warmly, soon to be replaced by a frozen grin and lastly a grimace.

Bedilia hadn't said a word, but her face spoke volumes.

"I'm sorry, Ms. Granger," she said with a sincere tone in her voice and sat slowly down at her desk. "Why don't you take a seat," she added.

Hermione shook her head. "What does that mean, you are sorry. What is going to be done in this matter?" She grabbed the back of a chair and dug her fingernails in it.

"You see, Blaise Zabini has a lot of influence in the Ministry. I'm sure you are aware, that he's the head of the Department of Magical Law Enforcement, including the fact that he often gives generous donations for expansion purposes. Minister Scrimgeour thought it best not to stir up a hornets' nest without absolute certainty," Mrs. Phlox explained.

Hermione couldn't believe it. She shook her head and took a deep breath. "Now, wait a minute. Without absolute certainty? What do you call what's written in these files? I have spoken to the girl personally. We have anatomy dolls that I acquired from a psychiatric muggle hospital. At first I just let her play around, drawing pictures and such. But soon she showed me exactly what's been done to her. Upon asking who did this, she told me clearly that her father played those so called games with her. Besides, the girl needs a physical. I'm sure there is enough proof after a doctor visit," Hermione huffed, disbelievingly.

"I'm sorry, Hermione, but there is nothing I can do. My hands are tied. Zabini is quite powerful and would undoubtedly give the Ministry a whole lot of trouble." Mrs. Phlox glanced over the rims of her glasses, her face having turned older within the past few minutes. It was obvious that she didn't like the Minister's decision either.

"It's preposterous. Where can I find the Minister? I'd like a word with him," Hermione demanded, but the other witch shook her head.

"That's not possible Ms. Granger. He wouldn't let you close to him, without his permission."

Hermione drew her eyebrows together. She had to come up with a way to help this girl. Suddenly, an idea struck her.

"Mrs. Phlox, you said Zabini is very powerful and indeed he is. But, what if I could manage to get an ally on my side that's even more powerful than Zabini?" Hermione voiced hopeful.

The older witch shook her head. "Listen, child, the only person that's more powerful than Zabini or the Minister himself, is Draco Malfoy."

Hermione smiled. "Exactly!"

It had been a long trying day for Hermione, when she finally flooed back into the flat. During the morning she had to deal with an impossible Malfoy and in the afternoon she was told, that they had an abuse case on their hands. Yes, it had definitely been wearisome.

She stepped out of the fire place and dusted herself off. Ginny was still at the daycare, sorting things out. Naturally, Blaise Zabini wasn't happy at all after Ginny refused to give him his daughter. She held him at wand point away, until a Ministry Official came and released the child into his charge.

Hermione expected Ginny to show up at any moment and she wasn't disappointed.

Before she could even slip off her shoes, the redhead apparated into the kitchen, her face as red as her hair.

"BOLLOKS," Ginny yelled, before she noticed Hermione's presence.

"Why didn't the ministry follow up on our concerns, 'Me'?" she asked with anger lacing her voice.

"I don't know, Ginny. I guess the money flow from one of their sponsors is more important then the life of a child. In that respect, Zabini seems to be in good standing with the Ministry, not to mention the **_small, insignificant fact_** that he's the head of Law Enforcement" she answered, plumping defeated onto the couch.

"Oohh, I could just . . . , " Ginny began, but was interrupted by a tapping sound on the window.

Both girls looked at each other simultaneously, before Ginny walked to the window and opened it.

A black eagle owl swept by her and landed on the couch next to Hermione.

"Whose owl is that?" she contemplated out loud.

"Maybe it's from the Ministry?" Ginny suggested and pulled an old crumpet out of her cloak.

"Here, take this." She handed it to Hermione and the owl gobbled it up.

Quickly she loosened the note from its leg.

"You better be careful," Ginny voiced, closing the window after the owl had swooped back out. "Maybe it's from Blaise Zabini?"

"No," Hermione shook her head, staring at the large silver "M" on the seal. "It's from Malfoy."

She broke the seal and unrolled the parchment. Her eyes flew quickly over the lines; simultaneously her face turned into an angry sneer.

"What is it, Mione?" Ginny asked curiously, after pulling her cloak off and jumped on the couch next to Hermione.

"One moment!" Hermione got up and, after locating her bag, pulled out the signed parchments from her visit at the Malfoy Mansion.

She leaved through the stack and pulled another parchment out, scanning over it in the same fashion.

"THAT GIT!" she exclaimed, her face turning bright red.

Finally, Hermione looked up into Ginny's questioning face.

"When I went there this morning, he had filled out the usual form for the amount of hours and days he needed me to teach his son. I told him the maximum of hours was four per day. He, of course requested six hours per day and now he wants even more. It's clearly impossible. Does he really think he's my only client?" A sharp pain shot through Hermione's temples and she had to sit down before she keeled over.

"Take it easy, "Me". Perhaps you should write him back, telling him that he simply cannot request that many hours?" Ginny suggested.

"Oh, I will, be sure of that." She got up and sat down on her desk to revise a quick note.

Hermione was just about to leave the flat to get Harry's owl, when Ginny stopped her.

"I'll take it down for you. I still want to go over some details for the wedding with Harry anyway. You should have a lie down, you look awful," Ginny said and quickly went downstairs.

Ginny was right. Hermione's head was near the point of exploding and every limb of her body ached. A nice hot bath with lots of pink and purple bubbles certainly seemed enticing at the moment. Slowly she got up and made her way to the bathroom. With a swish of her wand the water began flowing into the tub and with another swish the pink and purple soap and bubbles in the shape of hearts were added. Hermione's eyes fell on a large pomegranate scented candle she had bought in a muggle store. Swish, the candle was lit, leaving the bathroom in a romantic glow.

Quickly, she stripped off her clothes and sank into the warm water, the bubbles tickling her chin as she lie back. This was heaven, she thought, closing her eyes and trying not to think for at least an hour.

Hermione suddenly jerked awake from a noise outside the bathroom door. Instantly, she scolded herself for falling asleep so quickly in a tub filled with water, running the danger of drowning just as easily. She sat up straighter, taking a handful of bubbles and blowing them into the air.

She perked her ears, after hearing the familiar sound of her bedroom door creak. She knew Ginny would never just walk into her room. Their habit was to knock first before entering each other rooms.

"Ginny? Is that you?" Hermione asked and expected to hear the cheery voice of her friend, but no reply came.

"Ginny?" she asked again, by this time looking around frantically to find her wand. A foreboding feeling of dread settled into her stomach. Her wand was placed, conveniently out of reach, on the little vanity next to the sink.

'Perfect', Hermione cursed herself, turning slightly to listen to any other noises. There was no possible way that anything could be responsible for making that sound. She had no pets, Crookshanks had died two years ago, and with all the windows closed, she doubted that it was a draft.

The eerie quiet was almost worse than the creepy sounds she had heard. Carefully, she stood up and climbed out of the tub. Making as little noise as possible, she grabbed a large bath towel and wrapped it around her soapy self.

Her chest was heaving and lowering faster now, her breathing had become shallow.

Someone was clearly in her flat, judging by the sound of faint footsteps walking across the carpet. The steps came nearer and then stopped in front of the bathroom door.

Hermione's heart was pounding loudly. Her wand gripped tightly in her fist, she leaned closer to the door and listened. The intruder had stopped and Hermione swore she could hear breathing on the other side of it.

Hesitantly she reached for the door handle, but before she could touch it the door swung open and knocked her back. She fell painfully against the vanity, her wand falling with a loud clatter against the mirror and then onto the floor, out of her reach.

Eyes open wide in horror, she watched as her wand rolled under the vanity. This was it. She was done for; she thought and looked up at the large figure standing in the door.

"My, my, my, Granger," Malfoy grinned, looking her up and down, the towel barely covering her glistening, firm body. "You live a dangerous life. Anybody can break into your flat. I'm surprised at your carelessness. Or was it the Weaslette who put the charms in place?" he said mockingly and stepped closer.

Her hair was hanging in tendrils down her body, dripping with water. Her face was still flushed and rosy from the hot steamy bath she had just taken, and her skin glowed almost golden in the dim candle light. Draco couldn't believe how beautiful she looked just now. His thoughts drifted back to a particular time at Hogwarts. It was the beginning of seventh year and he had just come back from practicing Quidditch, when he ran into a distraught Headgirl. First, he had taunted her, but upon noticing that she didn't reply to any of his best taunts, he had begun asking questions. From what he had made out, Granger had caught the Weasel with another girl during the height of their copulation.

This had been his chance. It was supposed to be only for the purpose of humiliating the prude know-it-all. He had convinced her that fire whiskey was the best way of ridding oneself of any unnecessary pain and anguish. Laced with a bit of a harmless love potion and he had a willing Granger for his purpose. It hadn't taken him long to convince Granger to do something forbidden from time to time, after all, what else had she to loose? What Draco hadn't expected, was the strong feelings the girl had evoked in him after he had spent the best night of his life with her.

He stared at her plump lips never realizing the terror in her eyes. Those rosy lips drew him closer and before Hermione could react, his lips crashed down on hers, his tongue coaxing and exploring the soft flesh and finally plunging into her mouth.

Draco's arms snaked around her, his hands coming to rest on the small of her back. His body pressed firmly into hers and for a brief moment Hermione's mind stopped functioning, her breath hitched in her throat, enjoying the feeling of ecstasy and of his muscular chest against hers. Slowly, she brought her arms up to his shoulders, but before she was ready to embrace him, she reeled back.

"WHAT THE HELL ARE YOU DOING?" She shouted, pushing him back.

Draco looked startled for a moment, a strand of his hair was hanging loosely in his face and his lips were parted and moist from the intensive kiss.

Instantly, he reprimanded himself for being weak, just because a beautiful girl stood half naked before him. Well, he had to admit she wasn't just any girl. She was the girl that had stolen his heart in seventh year. She was the girl that, despite her heritage and his father's warnings, had intrigued him. She was the girl, who had given him his son.

But of course, she wasn't supposed to know that. Nobody was. The only other person having knowledge of this was Severus Snape, who had played a vital part in covering up every aspect of this delicate situation, that, if discovered, would have resulted in the death of them all. Voldemort wasn't one to forgive errors of such magnitude.

Two weeks after their steamy encounter, she had approached him, telling him of her predicament. He immediately consulted with his snarky professor, on how to proceed.

A memory charm was the resolve to all of Draco's problems, including a concealment charm to cover up her swelling belly. Her pumpkin juice was laced with dragon fusion, on a regular basis, to prevent the famous morning sickness. In all the whole operation proofed strenuous and time consuming, but it was the only way to prevent detection from Voldemort's minions or his father Lucius Malfoy.

And now Voldemort was dead and his father in Azkaban. But Draco still wasn't sure if he wanted his little secret out. He had taken care of his son for this long, why should he change it now? No, he couldn't chance it. He wouldn't loose his son. Loosing his son would break his heart.

Hermione just stared at him incredulously, noticing the faraway look in his eyes.

She wanted to move past him, but wasn't sure what he'd do next.

Draco forced himself back into the present and noticed her conflicting emotions. He decided to back up, turned around and walked out into the sitting room.

"Sorry, Granger, it was, shall we say, a lack of judgment. It won't happen again," he told her after he composed and was back to his indifferent self.

"I want you to leave my flat this instant, Malfoy," Hermione commanded, her voice laced with anger, after she followed him out, holding onto the towel tightly.

He looked at her and shook his head. "Not yet, Granger. First we have to discuss your schedule," he said, grabbing a book off her shelf and leaving through it.

"I already wrote to you. I'm declining your request," she said curtly, walking toward him and snatching the book out of his hand.

He only gave her a suggestive smile and leaned against the couch.

"I'm sorry, but I don't accept your decline. You will be at my mansion, tomorrow, at 7am sharp and begin your duties."

Hermione drew her brows together, contemplating it a moment and then nodded.

"Alright Malfoy, but only if you do me a favor too," she said with the same grin he had given her a second before.

"Let me guess, it has to do with a certain Slytherin friend of mine?" Draco asked, a glint in his eyes.

"How'd you know?"

He got up and stepped closer to her, so close in fact, that Hermione could feel his breath on her face while he looked down at her.

"Let's just say that, news travels fast. Blaise Zabini isn't very pleased at all. As a matter of fact, he's already planning to destroy you and your business. I tell you what. You do as I say, and I might just find myself generous enough to stop my friend from whatever he is planning. How's that sound?" he said, cocking his head to the side.

"You don't understand, Malfoy. He needs to be brought to justice. I have proof enough to get him locked into Azkaban for a hundred years or more, but the Minister doesn't want to hear about it," Hermione explained and looked hopeful into his eyes.

"You don't have the cunning of a Slytherin mind, Granger. Let me take care of it. Deal?" he held out his hand and grinned.

Hermione glanced wearily at his gesture, and hesitantly reached up to shake his hand.

"Alright, Malfoy. It's a deal."

"Good! I see you tomorrow morning," He said, giving her a last sneaky smirk, before apparating out of her flat.


	9. Chapter 9

**Authors Note:** _Just quickly, I want to thank **all of you**, and I mean **all**, for giving me such awesome reviews. I never expected that. I hope you guys don't mind me not thanking everyone individually, because of the sheer volume of reviews. This chapter took a little longer, since it's much bigger than the other chapters. I'm trying to update as quickly as possible, but if it takes a bit longer from time to time, bare with me. _

Thanks again, OxOxOxOx to all

**9. DaVinci anda Dragon**

Hermione's ploy had worked. She blinked a few times, the sunlight streaming through a crack in the curtains, tickling her nose. With a big grin on her face she pushed the blankets off of her. Who knew that Hermione possessed such a 'slytherin' mind? She found that she was at the very least cunning enough to give Draco a run for his money. The whole scenario had worked better than she could have hoped for. She would become his son's Nanny in exchange for him helping her with the Zabini case. It didn't get any better than that, although she still detested being in his presence for any length of time.

She glanced at her muggle radio clock, the digits showing two minutes after six. Stretching her arms gingerly, she sat up and swung her legs over the side to get up, but halted her hand flying to her mouth.

'Oh my god, Malfoy kissed me last night', she thought, the memory of it crashing down at her like a ton of bricks.

For a minute, she just sat there, not sure on how to categorize this turn of events. It brought about an array of conflicting feelings, wondering just why her body had nearly betrayed her during the kiss. She could still feel the butterflies in her stomach, but her mind told her it was wrong. Any liaisons with Draco Malfoy were wrong and would undoubtedly lead to devastation of nuclear proportions. She knew they would never get along.

Finally, she got up and trotted to her closet. She pulled out a pair of hip hugging jeans and a baby blue t-shirt. Then she proceeded to the bathroom for a shower, trying to chuck the thoughts of the 'Slytherin Sex God' out of her mind.

Twenty minutes later, she stood completely dressed before her mirror. She had decided to keep her hair open for today, her tresses falling in soft curls down her back.

Another glance at the clock told her she only had time for a cup of coffee, and then she would be off to the Malfoy Manor. It was only too unfortunate that she had to be there so early, instead of being able to go to the library in Diagon Alley to research wizarding laws.

Quickly, she sipped her coffee, while writing a note for Ginny, who had obviously spent the night with Harry. Then she grabbed her bag and apparated.

A fresh, salty breeze was blowing, lifting her hair up and into her face. She brushed the tendrils back and walked quickly up the large steps to the entrance of the manor. It must be beautiful to live here, so close to the ocean and so secluded, she mused, grabbing the knocker and giving the door a few sharp raps.

A few seconds later, she was greeted by Morphy who admitted her without hesitation.

"Master is still asleep, but young Master Marcel is getting fed in the kitchens as yous and Morphy speak. Follow Morphy, Miss," he rasped and once again tapped down the hall, motioning for her to follow. This time he led her all the way through the hall and down a narrow staircase. The kitchen they entered at the bottom of the stairs was huge. Hermione glanced around in awe at all the utensils one would need to make a meal for a hundred people or more. 'Ginny would enjoy this', she smirked, and then her eyes fell on Marcel.

He was sitting on the large wooden kitchen table, stuffing his mouth with what looked like pancakes. Dixie was standing next to him, filling his cup with milk every so often.

Hermione smiled, watching Marcel who was sitting slightly diagonal to her. He hadn't spotted her, yet. Slowly she approached the table.

"Good morning, Marcel," she said quietly, as not to startle him. Dixie looked up at her and jumped off the table, busying herself with other tasks.

His head snapped around and a big grin appeared on his face. Quickly, he jumped off his chair and ran toward her, wrapping his arms around her legs. "THE NANNY, THE NANNY," he shouted, looking up at her with large blue eyes.

Hermione crouched down before him and gave his hair a quick stroke.

"Yes, it's the Nanny, Marcel, but I do have a name," she smiled, her heart stopping for a second and then speeding up. For a brief fraction of time she wondered just why this little boy had such an impact on her feelings.

"What's your name?" he asked curiously. With one hand he reached for one of her brown locks and rubbed the satiny tendril between his fingers, staring at it. It was almost as if he suddenly had become shy.

She lifted his chin and looked into his eyes.

"It's Hermione, Hermione Granger, but you can call me Hermione if you like," she offered.

"Minee, it's phetty."

She laughed, knowing that her name wasn't exactly easy to pronounce. Even Victor Krum had problems with it during his stay at the Tri-Wizard Tournament.

"Sure, call me Minee, that's going to be your special name for me, ok?"

"Like a secret?"

"Yes, like a secret name." She smiled and stood up, glancing at his plate.

"Are you finished with your breakfast, Marcel?"

"Uh huh," he nodded and took her little finger, wrapping his whole hand around it.

"That's good." She turned to Morphy, who was busy cleaning lamps with a Scourgify Charm.

"Is there a room assigned for teaching, other than Marcel's bedroom?" she enquired from the house-elf and he nodded obediently.

"Yes, Miss. Morphy will show you." He placed a lamp on a counter and cleaned his hands on an old rag.

"Follow Morphy."

All three took the large staircase to the upper floors, Hermione helping Marcel slowly up the steps.

Once there, the elf turned to the right and opened a door at the far end of the landing.

Her eyes popped open upon seeing the interior. The room was completely square with a large green Persian reaching from one end to the other. A dark green board was fastened on one side, before it a large desk. A smaller desk with a fitting chair was placed a few feet away. The other end of the room was lined with shelf upon shelf of books. Some children books lay on the floor before the shelves, displaying moving pictures on their cover. 'Children's Wizarding Books', Hermione mused and her smile broadened.

Three large windows were stretching along the third wall, bringing in plenty of light, including cushioned window benches with mint green coverings.

The fourth wall was lined with various toys and toy chests. A dragon figure nearly as tall as Hermione stood in the corner and emitted puffs of smoke every so often. In awe she stepped closer to take a look at an oil painting hanging near the dragon.

"Is this you, Marcel?" she asked pointed to it.

Marcel only glanced up quickly and answered her with a nod of his head.

A boy with a head full of platinum blonde hair was looking down at a butterfly, which had landed on his hand. The background consisted mainly of a golden colored sky, sunset Hermione presumed. Only vaguely could she make out the horizon and the white foam from the breakers crashing against a ragged shoreline. She took a closer look, admiring the strokes, fine enough to bleed from one into the other, yet strong and sure. The colors used, were in perfect harmony with each other. The richly glowing landscape evoked nostalgic emotional connections with a distant past, in stark contrast to the boy's face, whose eyes reminded the onlooker of a bright future filled with hopes and dreams. Yet, the stillness of the painting, transpiring almost a feeling of holding ones breath, seemed to represent the present.

"It's beautiful," Hermione breathed in admiration. "I wonder who painted this masterpiece?" she spoke, more to herself than to Marcel.

"Daddy did," he answered nonchalantly, as if it wasn't a big deal.

Hermione was stunned to say the least. All she could bring out was a subdued "Oh really?" Had he actually created this strikingly beautiful oil painting? It was almost impossible to believe. Draco and fine art was nearly as inconceivable as Snape having tea with her grandmother. She took her eyes off the painting and gave the room another once over.

This was certainly a room fit for a young prince. She spun around and chanced upon a small cauldron on a side table near the large desk. Empty potion vials were placed higher above it on a rack, and next to it several bottles with different herbs and fungi, from what she could make out. Everything to teach a child up until the age of twelve was packed into this room. Hermione knew she would enjoy teaching Marcel everything he needed to know, heck she'd probably have just as much fun as he, playing with the toys or experimenting with the little children's potion set, wishing she had those things growing up.

Marcel stood still the entire time, holding onto her finger and watching her with his large blue eyes.

"You like my room?" he said, finally and let go of her hand, jumping to the book shelf and pulling out a book nearly as big as he stood tall.

He carried it over to her and placed it on his table, motioning for her to follow.

Hermione did, and glanced over his shoulder while watching his fingers flicking the pages open.

"This my favite book," he explained proudly and pointed to the picture of an old castle.

"Tales by the Brother's Grimm," she whispered in wonder. It was a muggle book and to Hermione's surprise he had picked this particular one as his favorite out of all the other fantastic wizard books around. Even more peculiar, was the fact that Malfoy would allow such muggle literature in his house.

Tears prickled in her eyes. She had loved the tales of the Grimm Brothers when she was a child. They had been her favorite nighttime stories for many years.

"They are my favorite stories, too, Marcel."

"He looked up at her. "Really?" he asked, unsure of whether she meant it, or was just doing the 'adult thing' of trying to please him. It was clear that the boy was extremely observant.

Hermione nodded truthfully. He assessed her face for a moment and then turned satisfied back to the book.

"If you like, I can read it to you this afternoon, but now we shall do some work," she said and walked over to the desk.

He pouted, but this pout was quickly replaced by a smile, as soon as Hermione pulled her wand out of her pocket.

"You have a wand too, like daddy," he squealed and jumped off his chair.

"Yes, Marcel, I'm a witch. Every witch and wizard is in possession of a wand. Please, sit down at your desk now. I would like to test a few . . ." was all Hermione brought out before she watched him bolt to the door.

"Marcel, where are you off to?" She jumped up and followed, but he was already in the hallway. His quick little feet carried him down the hall and toward another door.

"MARCEL, WAIT! You cannot just run off during your lessons."

Falling over a toy broom, she cursed under her breath, as a sharp pain shot through her ankle. Crunching her teeth together, she limped after him. This young man was definitely in need of a firm hand and some structure. Apparently he had received neither so far.

"MARCEL? WHERE ARE YOU?"

She noticed the half open door and slipped through. She couldn't let him get away too far. The chance of him getting hurt and then reaping the repercussions from a nasty father wasn't exactly something she would enjoy.

"Marcel?" she called, her voice a little more subdued. She crossed what looked like a small sitting room to another partially opened door. Taking a deep breath she opened the door wider and wished the next instant she hadn't.

Within a split second Marcel had jumped onto his father's huge bed, pulled the sheet down, yelling a loud "WAKE UP, DADDY, MINEE HAS A WAND TOO," and plumped into the cushions beside him.

Staring wide eyed, Hermione took in the full glory of a split naked Malfoy Senior before she could avert her eyes, hoping he hadn't noticed, but it was too late. Within the same moment he had snapped open his eyes, gave Marcel a quick glance and then at the figure standing at the door, staring at him in complete shock.

"BLIMEY," Draco cursed, covering his body with the satiny sheet after noticing it wasn't an elf, but Hermione had already stepped back into the hall and closed the door behind her. It won't be necessary to mention that her face was bead red.

"Oh gods," Hermione yelped mortified, biting her lip and going slightly into her knees. Her hands came up and gripped a handful of hair, cursing her self for pushing the door open.

'This would only happen to me,' she thought frantically, feeling as if someone had caught her with her hand stuck down the cookie jar.

"Swell, Hermione, just swell, and you **_had_** to look," she reprimanded herself.

She closed her eyes for a moment, trying to get her nerves under control. Unfortunately, this only brought the image of Draco Malfoy more into focus, having an adverse effect on what it was intended for. So, she ripped her eyes open again, trying desperately to focus on the beautiful design in the runner. She was almost successful in that regard, if it hadn't been for certain patterns in the carpet, which could be easily interpreted into certain anatomic shapes.

"This is ridiculous," she spat loudly, seating herself on the topmost step of the staircase.

"I must agree with you, mu . . . Granger."

Hermione spun around upon hearing his voice and looked into Malfoy's sneering face, before turning away again, and covering her face with her hands. 'At least he pulled on some jeans,' she thought, thanking the gods.

"I'm so sorry, Malfoy, I didn't know that . . .," she said, but broke off.

"Well, be glad. You've got a chance not many women get to have. I hope you enjoyed it."

"What's that suppose to mean Malfoy?"

"I thought I was pretty clear on what I meant. After all, you took your time looking away."

Hermione whipped around and stood up. "That is **_so_** not true, and you know it. Why do you have to sleep naked anyway? Not to mention without keeping your door locked. Anybody can just march into your chambers and see you in all your glory," she huffed angrily, not noticing that she had stepped so close to him their noses nearly touched.

"Wow Granger, I didn't know you liked it that much. Besides, what I do in **_my_** house, in **_my_** chambers, or in **_my_** bed is **_my_** business." His voice had almost turned into a whisper and a sly smile played about his lips.

"You are sorely mistaken, if you assume for one minute, that I enjoy looking at you, Malfoy," she snapped back at him. "You are nothing to me!"

"Really? Of course, that would explain the reason for your face having the color of Weasel's hair," he shot back, grinning broadly. "Give over, will you? You are attracted to me."

That was it for Hermione. Her hand shot up, ready to slap him silly, but before she made contact he had stopped her, gripping her wrist tightly in his large hand. He increased the pressure, until Hermione was sure he had broken a few bones in it.

"Don't you ever slap me in front of my son, Granger, or you will pay for it," he hissed dangerously, pulling her hard against his body. Before Hermione knew what was happening, his lips crashed down on hers and his other arm snaked around her waist and pulled her into him. After a few futile attempts to push him away, she gave in, ravishing his mouth just as eagerly as he did with her, their tongues entwined, their hands roaming over each other's bodies.

"Daddy, what are you doing?"

That little voice brought Hermione back to reality and her eyes shot open in utter horror. She pushed Malfoy away and saw him grin down at her.

"And once again, you proved me right, Granger," he said with a sly smirk and turned to his son.

Hermione was speechless. Who the hell did he think he was? What was he trying to proof? And why did he kiss her, for the second time?

Draco crouched down and picked up his son. "Time for your lessons, little dragon," he told him, but Marcel was clearly not satisfied with the answer.

"Are you giving hugs, daddy?"

For a moment Hermione thought she saw a slight blush in Draco's immaculate pale skin.

"Why are you eating Nanny's face?"

Draco groaned. "Because she had some jam on her face so I cleaned it for her. Happy?"

"But I didn't see no jam," Marcel countered, yet his father didn't seem to be in no mood to discuss this further.

"Let's get you to your study room," he said and marched Marcel back down the corridor, Hermione following him reluctantly, still shocked and speechless.

After they entered, Draco sat his son down and walked back to the door. "You listen to what your Nanny says, is that clear?" After he acknowledged the young boy's nod, he turned to Hermione.

"And I hope you will do a better job in keeping an eye on him. You wouldn't want anything to happen to him, would you?" Malfoy raised an eyebrow suggestively and left the study room, closing the door behind him.

Hermione was near the boiling point after hearing his reprimand, as if she was incapable of doing her job. She certainly hadn't anticipated Marcel to just run off like that. It bothered her greatly, that they had fought for the third time in front of the child, but Draco had a knack to infuriate her to such a degree, she barely could hold on to her manners, let alone her sanity. She knew she had to force herself to stay calm in his presence or it would have a bad effect on Marcel. With a sigh she turned to the boy, hoping that this situation with Malfoy Senior would improve over time. Otherwise, she might as well book a stay at St. Mungo's. At this rate, she knew she'd either die of a heart attack or go insane. And no more kissing, she swore herself.

The morning went by quickly and without further mishap. After testing Marcel's abilities, Hermione had asked him to help her draw some colorful lists on paper boards. One list showed his progress and the other was for good behavior. She had brought muggle stickers and touched each with her wand to animate them. Marcel had watched her with the greatest delight.

She had explained to him, that, every day he had been a good boy and completed a task, she would place a sticker on each chart. At the end of the week, depending upon how many stickers he had acquired, he would earn something. She had a big bag of small items ready for him to pick from for this occasion. She also told him that he had a choice of something from the bag or having some fun together, such as playing a game etc.

He stood next to her, watching as Hermione fastened the lists to the wall, when Dixie appeared.

"Lunch is served in the Dining room," she squeaked and was gone the next instant.

Hermione looked at the glitter left behind from the house-elf and then into Marcel's face.

"Great! Are you hungry, Marcel?" she asked, smiling down at him.

"Uh huh," he answered, rubbing his tummy.

"Well, then lets go."

She took his hand and led him out of the room into the hallway, looking left and right.

"Oh, Marcel, could you show me where the Dining room is?"

"Yes," he said, and pulled her down the hall to the staircase. They descended quickly, crossing the entrance hall to the right and entering a large dining room located on the sea side of the Manor. Hermione glanced briefly through the large French doors at the breathtaking landscape.

The table was long, just about as long as the tables in the Great Hall of Hogwarts. At the very end she only spotted Morphy balancing an array of bowls in his hands. The table was decked beautifully, a set of candles placed in the middle of the setting. Hermione certainly had never eaten a normal lunch in such a manner. Usually she ordered a sandwich sub from a local corner store and sat at her desk working while taking a bite here or there.

Marcel pulled her to the end of the table and they sat down. Hermione took the seat next to Marcel in order to help him, if he needed it. She was glad Malfoy hadn't showed up for lunch, she didn't know if she could bare another run-in with him.

The food smelled delicious. With a flick of Morphy's finger their plates and glass goblets filled themselves.

Hermione reached over and tied a napkin around Marcel's neck, to his dismay, for he showed his famous pout.

"I don't need that," he cried out, but a stern look from Hermione made him comply.

"All here and ready to eat, I see?"

Hermione's heart froze. She quickly glanced around noticing Malfoy's regal form standing behind her. He walked to the end of the table and sat down next to her.

They began eating, mostly in silence; accept for Marcel, who had a knack for asking one-hundred-and-one questions in the span of under two minutes; questions that were often impossible to answer and the answers leading into another question.

Hermione dealt with it for a while, whereas Draco was reading through his mail.

"Marcel, you should not speak at the table while eating. You could easily choke on some food," Hermione explained and promised him to answer his questions after lunch.

Marcel complied willingly, earning him an astounded look from his father, before he opened another letter.

This letter, Hermione had only glimpsed at the front for a brief moment, had a large S stamped upon it, which immediately peaked her interest. She knew that 'S' had seen it several times in her life, for nobody she knew had an 'S' shaped so elaborately as her old Professor Snape. She nearly choked and swallowed hard, wondering just what Malfoy had to do with a murderer.

But before she could examine the letter a bit closer, he had slipped it under the stack of parchments out of her sight.

Quickly, she busied herself cutting up her meat into the tiniest pieces.

"How much smaller do you want to cut this roast?"

He had noticed her fidgeting, watching her closely, with a grin on his face.

"Is something wrong?"

"Not at all, Malfoy," she answered, trying to sound as truthful as possible, but she could tell he didn't really buy it, for the look he gave her was testament for that. To avert the situation she gave him a warm smile.

"What do you intend to do with the Zabini case?" she asked.

"I still haven't thought about it, yet. To be truthful, I'm not sure if I should believe this story," he answered her indifferently and took a sip of his goblet.

The silverware crashed onto Hermione's plate, nearly chipping the fine china, before she turned to him with a deathly glare.

"Are you calling me a liar, Malfoy? We had a deal and this little girl is in desperate need for help. You cannot do this," she huffed angrily, getting up of the table.

"Perhaps we should discuss this in private? My son doesn't have to hear your incessant ranting."

"Fine!" she snapped and walked out of the dining hall.

"What's wrong with Minee, Daddy?"

"Nothing, Marcel. We just don't agree on everything, that's all." Draco stood up likewise and summoned Dixie.

"You stay here with Dixie, young man, and finish your lunch, while I talk to your Nanny, alright?"

Marcel nodded, a perturbed expression on his face.

Hermione was pacing up and down the hallway when Draco spotted her.

He quickly grabbed her arm and pulled her into his office. Hermione didn't like his behavior one bit and ripped her arm out of his grasp.

"DON'T YOU EVER TOUCH ME, AGAIN, MALFOY. IS THAT CLEAR?"

Frantically, Hermione searched for her wand, remembering that she had left it in the study room.

'Bollocks' she thought, hoping she wouldn't have to defend herself.

With his foot he kicked the door shut behind them and rounded on her.

"I will touch you whenever I see fit, Granger. I thought I had made myself clear. This is my house and I do as I please here; even with you," he uttered the last three words and at the same time stepped close to her.

Hermione let out a quick, sarcastic laugh. "It appears to me that you are more in need of a nanny than your son, to teach you proper manners and etiquette, Malfoy. Something your parents obviously neglected to do. Besides, I'm not your property, even if I have to spend time in your house," she hissed back.

That's when Draco's demeanor changed. His body stiffened and for the first time in Hermione's life she was genuinely scared of him. Looking up at his face, she noticed his eyes slowly turning into a cruel and cold grey mass, the pupils small and piercing, like little needle pins, ready to penetrate her very soul.

Carefully she took small steps back until her bum hit the wall. She was trapped, she knew, watching helplessly as he stepped closer and closer, propping his hands up against the wall on either side of her head.

He leaned into her, his whole body pressed against her tiny form, nearly taking her breath away.

"If you ever, and I mean ever, speak ill of my parents again, you will find your life in shambles. I'll make certain of that and believe me, I have the power," he spoke in a low but dangerous growl.

"Now, Granger, since it means so much to you, I will look into the "Zabini Case", although I highly doubt that one of my best friends would do such a thing. But, since everything comes with a price, and I find the deal you struck with me yesterday not adequate enough to exploit my friend, I will change this deal a tad bit. You know, to even things out." The knowing look he shot at her, told Hermione that she hadn't even scratched the surface of this cunning Slytherin mind. Perhaps she had been a bit rash with the assessment of her own craftiness.

"What do you propose?" she asked him, her voice not as steady as she had hoped.

A triumphant grin swept over his face.

"I want you to move into the Malfoy Manor."

"WHAT? WHY?" Hermione's eyes popped open in utter shock.

"It's simple, really. I'm extremely busy and my son needs a nanny, a good nanny, someone who will be there for him not just for a mere few hours, but for the whole week. Oh, don't worry. I will pay you accordingly. Money is of no issue to me. My son, on the other hand, means everything to me and I want to give him the best in return. I need an exclusive Nanny for Marcel. You will get Saturdays off and during the week you stay here at the manor. If you do this, I will promise you to help you get justice for Zabini's daughter."

There was a long pause, before Hermione could even begin to speak. The thoughts jumbled around in her head and she just couldn't make any sense of it. She needed time to process the information, before she could make any decisions, particularly a decision of this magnitude.

She took a deep breath and looked up at him.

"I don't know, Malfoy. I have to think about this."

"How long do you need?"

"A week at least," she answered, biting her bottom lip thoughtfully.

"Ok, I give you two days!"


	10. Chapter 10

_Thanks again for all the reviews. This chapter took a bit longer and for some reason was harder for me to write...don't know why, but I hope you guys still like it._

**10. Dating Attempts**

Hermione had never indulged in alcohol let alone any other recreational remedy to ease her mind or to just forget and have fun. On occasion she might have sipped some wine here or drink a glass of champagne there, not to forget the rare butter beer at Madam Rosmerta's. But, today was one of those days where she would make an exception.

Simply going to the Malfoy Mansion everyday and dealing with the insufferable git, was stressful enough. Now, he had requested for her to move in, well, if that wasn't going to drive her insane, then she'd be very surprised. Tonight, she just didn't feel like thinking about all the questions swirling around in her brain; mainly why he was so thoroughly nasty to her and then kissed her the next instant.

Despite of that, what should she tell Ginny or Harry and Ron?

'_You guys, our sworn archenemy, Malfoy, has invited me to live in the Mansion to be a full-time nanny, isn't it great?And in return he's going to help me with the unfortunate Zabini girl.'_ Hermione snorted at the thought. If anybody found out about her so called _talent_ to strike deals with Malfoy, they would undoubtedly get her admitted to the next psych ward. In her world you just _DON'T_ strike deals with a Malfoy. It was the same as to _NOT_ go out during lightening. The odds of getting hit were even higher.

And what should she do with her other clients and all the administrative work?

Hermione supposed she could distribute her clients evenly to the other employees and take the administrative work with her to the manor, but still. It made her blood boil to think he had struck such an unfair deal and upon asking her how long she needed to decide, he had simply stated he'd only give her two days. What an arse!

Unable to think any longer, she decided to call one of her friends. Perhaps they were in the mood to go out with her. Ginny was, again, with Harry, so there was no luck for her to catch up with the redhead. And Ron, no, he was definitely not a good choice either. She was still a bit ticked off about him anyway. Neville had married Luna last year and Dean was living in America.

Quickly, she flicked through her address book and her eyes fell on Oliver Wood. She hadn't spoken to him for ages, not since he had left school. He was also more a friend of Harry than her, but who cares. She knew he wasn't dating anyone, at least that's what Ginny had told her, and Ginny was usually right about stuff like that.

She only hoped he was still living in Dublin. Her mind made up, she walked to the fireplace, threw some powder in it, and called out his address.

It didn't take long for him to appear before his hearth and was more than delighted to join her for a fun night out in Muggle London. He promised her, he would floo to her flat within the hour.

'That's set,' Hermione thought happily and stepped in front of her closet. All that was left to do was to find something nice, no, sexy to wear.

* * *

A red glowing sun was hovering near the horizon, almost as if it was ready to touch the ocean water. In a few minutes it would take a dip and the magnificent glow would vanish to be replaced by darkness. 

Draco was lazing around on the stone deck behind his manor, reclined in the chair and his son lying atop of him. He looked down at the mass of unruly curls and the sleeping face, which rested upon his chest.

A certain melancholy came over him as he gazed at Marcel. Even if the boy had his platinum blonde hair and the piercing eyes, he nevertheless could see Hermione's features in him. Marcel had her long, brown lashes and Draco supposed that his hair would turn darker with the years, also. The blue of his eyes was of a deep clear shade, with turquoise sprinkles adding to the intensity, unlike his own eyes, which were more grey than blue; the light blue/grey eyes were an inheritance of his father and his grandfather.

Marcel had Hermione's nose, not the eagle beak that ran in the Malfoy family. And just as Hermione, Marcel would bite his bottom lip, whenever he was in thought. The first time Draco had noticed it, he had nearly laughed out loud. Not that he was pleased to see it. It had always been Hermione's most salient expression; her trademark, if you will. And now, his son was displaying identical trades.

Unwillingly, the same old thought struck him again. What if he would tell her? Would they live together? Could they live together? Would she forgive him for keeping Marcel from her for so long?

He thought back at a scrap of conversation he had with Severus a few nights back, when he had visited him. His former potions master had suggested for Draco to propose to Hermione, get married, and then tell her, if he was so afraid of telling her beforehand. _'Once bound to you in matrimony, there isn't much the little witch can do'_ Snape had opted with a silky drawl.

Draco had gritted his teeth at the thought, comparing it with the way his patriarchic ancestors had undoubtedly managed a situation just like this one, at the same time his mind conjured up a mental picture of our cave dwelling prototypes, half human, half ape, who were treating an unwilling female by hitting her over the head and pulling her into their dwellings.

No, this wouldn't work and was bound to fail. Hermione was just simply too smart and too independent for such an approach. He would have to use all his charm and craftiness, if he was to ensnare her.

He looked up at the first star in the evening sky, recalling the game his mother used to play with him, when he was little. She would sit with him, just like now, holding him tightly in his arms, waiting for the first star to appear. Then quickly they sent a silent wish toward it. He never found out what his mother's wishes were on those warm summer nights, but he knew it couldn't have been too far from his own wishes; the wish for his father to stop his torment. This time his wish was different. Deep inside, he wished for Hermione to reciprocate his feelings for her. Deep down, he loved her, had always loved her. A shiver ran through him, not knowing if it came from the chill in the air, or from his unwillingness to admit his feelings.

Carefully, Draco propped his self up. Holding his son tightly to his chest, he stood up and walked slowly inside.

After Marcel was tucked tightly under the bedcovers, Draco ordered Dixie to stay with him, watching over the sleeping boy, while he went downstairs to have his customary nightly cognac.

It had become his tradition to sit in an armchair before the fire, indulging in the undiluted spirit, and reflecting over the day's events, before turning in.

He had just gotten comfortable, staring unblinkingly into the fire, when a green mass appeared in it, taking on the shape of Goyle's head.

"Hey, Draco, can I come over?" Goyle asked, his fat cheeks quivering. One would have thought he'd lost the weight by now, but he seemed to have gotten even bigger over the years. Vincent Crabbe hadn't made it past the war. He had been trampled to death by a Hippogriff. How ever he had managed to get under the talons and hoofs of such a creature, was everybody's guess. Perhaps he had run away from Aurors on that faithful night.

"Well, alright." Draco rolled his eyes and motioned for him to come through the floo.

After he stepped his large frame out of the hearth, he shook the ashes off and sat down in the empty armchair next to Draco.

"Nott wants to know if you'd like to have a go around in London. He found this new muggle dance club. Want to go?" Goyle asked, his face looking as stupid as ever.

Draco raised a questioning eyebrow. "Really? Is Notty going to pay?"

"I don't know. I had to pay for myself to get in, but he might. He's already there," Goyle answered obediently and then added, "Oh, and he wants me to tell you, that your Nanny is there, too."

By that time, both of Draco's eyebrows shot up, threatening to disappear under his hair. It wasn't a secret that he had hired the famous know-it-all to take care of his son. In Slytherin circles it was standard to have rumors go around like wildfire.

He jerked upward, his back straight, while staring at Goyle.

"Are you serious?" Draco asked, clutching the arms of the chair a little too tight. What the hell was she doing in a dance club? Granger had never struck him to be a party person.

"Of course, I'm serious and she's not alone. Remember Wood?"

The lines in his face grew harsh, before Draco answered.

"Yes, I know Wood, Gryffindor Seeker. I suppose, he never ended up in the Quidditch career. They kicked him off the Kenmare Kestrels two years back."

"Exactly," Goyle grinned and heaved himself out of the chair. "So are you coming along? It should be fun, and if not, there's always Granger to be messed with," he said, knowing Draco's love of making fun of his old enemy. What Goyle didn't know, was the fact that Draco had much different reasons for tagging along, not that it was any of his business. Nobody knew of Draco's one night encounter with Granger. Everybody thought that Marcel was the son from some witch Draco met while visiting France, at least that's what he had told them.

He quickly got up and told Goyle he'd meet him at the Leaky Cauldron in half an hour. Then he proceeded to his bedchamber to take a quick shower and get dressed.

Not long after, he stood before his body length mirror assessing his appearance. He was satisfied with the way he looked, clad in designer denims, a dark blue Armani T-shirt and over it a black, long sleeve shirt from the same brand. He rolled up the sleeves half way and assessed his hair.

It had grown long over the years, but he was up for something different. This wouldn't do anymore. He looked just too much like his father. Grabbing the wand of his dresser, he stepped back in front of the mirror.

"Abscindo Capillatus," Draco mumbled, holding the wand to his head, watching long hair fall in a circle around his feet. Left was a very nice cut. His hair was still long enough for some of the tendrils to cover his eyes, reaching below the nose, but the style gave him a messy appearance. His thoughts drifted back to Hermione.

Dare her going out with that idiot Wood, and dare Wood to take a claim on his woman. He would show them.

Satisfied with his looks, he grabbed his wand and wallet and apparated.

It was show time.

* * *

"So, what are you doing currently, Oliver?" Hermione asked, after they had sat down at the bar. Her face was flushed from dancing.

It was a big night club, with several bars in all the five corners of the building. The building itself was of a pentagon shape. In the middle was the huge dance floor. The waterfalls coming down on each wall were lit up in different colors, giving the whole area a cool ambience. The tables, seats and bars, in fact the whole place looked as if it had been carved out of ice. It was the coolest night club Hermione had ever seen and she enjoyed herself immensely.

She had noticed a few muggle guys staring at her, no doubt due to her black flowing dress, curving nicely along her form, low cut in the back, spaghetti straps around her shoulders and the skirt short, stopping right above her knees. In the back the skirt was a little longer, flowing every time she walked.

Wood took a sip from his cocktail and smiled at her.

"I'm working as head of a potions company," he grinned and held up his hand. "Yes, I know, me and potions, but I must say I rather enjoy it. I never knew how interesting this subject was, having been taught from the worst teacher in history," he added, quickly.

"Professor Snape wasn't that bad, Oliver," Hermione countered.

"No, he wasn't, but he certainly didn't make it fun to learn either."

Hermione couldn't suppress a grin.

"I guess you are right about that. He had a knack for striking fear into his students. It's the past," she added and looked into Oliver' eyes, at the same time giving him a flirtatious smile. "Didn't you want to pursue a job as a professional Quidditch Player?"

"I did, actually, but half way into the first season I got hurt badly. I was never the same afterward, that's why I have that ruddy stiffness in my arm. And before you ask, there is speculation that it was a dark, irreversible curse which caused the injury."

"I'm so sorry to hear that," Hermione voiced and place her hand on his arm. She had noticed earlier that he held his arm at an odd angle, prohibiting a normal range of motion.

Wood looked down at her action and gently took her hand. Hermione was a bit startled when he brought it to his lips and kissed it softly.

She blushed and looked down quickly. Wood had been one of the more handsome guys at Hogwarts and he still was. His brown eyes glinted mischievously at her every now and then and his smile was sweet and sincere.

A slow song was beginning to play and Oliver stood up. "Could I have this dance, Ms. Granger?" he asked, holding out his hand.

She gave him a smile, took his hand, and followed him to the dance floor.

The whole scenario was magical. Hermione's cheeks glowed prettily, while Oliver placed his arms around her waist.

As the song went on, Hermione noticed him getting closer and soon his body was pressed against hers. She noticed a faint scar on the side of his neck, and wondered just how bad this curse must have effected him. Midway through the dance and her random thoughts, she felt his lips on the side of her neck, tickling and nibbling gently. His actions intensified, and before she knew it, his lips had found her mouth, kissing her lightly.

A tingling sensation went from her chest down to her stomach and lower, but it was by far not as strong as it had been when Draco had kissed her. Was this some sort of sign? Wood was a nice guy, handsome, apparently successful, then why was she even thinking about Malfoy?

The song ended, Hermione shook her head lightly at her own confusing thoughts, and pulled Wood back to the bar by his hand. Once there, she ordered two shots of Vodka and swallowed it in one gulp. Oliver glanced at her for a moment, then took his shot glass and followed suit.

"Another round of Vodka, please," Hermione shouted at the bartender over the loud music. She was oblivious to three guys sitting at the other end of the lengthy bar, a pair of steel grey eyes watching her intently and with utmost loathing. His eyes followed her to the dance floor and it took all his restraint to not hurl himself onto Wood, when he saw him kissing her. Gone were all his good intentions to win Hermione's heart with his uncanny charm.

Gods, he hated how she ogled that stupid Wood. What did she see in him?

As soon as Draco had set foot inside the exclusive night club, he had lost no time in scanning over the whole area in search for her, steering toward that particular bar upon spotting her brown locks.

At first he was shocked on how pretty she looked, no beautiful, he corrected him self.

Two muggles, stood close by and whispered to each other, pointing into Granger's direction in frequent intervals. It made Draco's blood boil to see how other men stared at her. He got up and shoved one of the guys against the bar, telling him to get lost.

It only took one look from the muggle guy into Draco's eyes and he was glad to leave the vicinity.

"What's your problem, Malfoy?" Nott asked, grinning at the other's exhibition. "Don't want anyone to look at your little mudblood?"

"Hold your mouth, Notty, unless you want to loose your teeth," Draco seethed and took a large sip of his Bourbon.

Not too soon, three girls approached the bar, giggling and whispering and throwing glances at Draco and Nott.

Goyle, overjoyed with hopefully getting laid, got up off his barstool and made his way over to the three superficial beauties. Nott followed suit, but Draco wasn't in the mood.

One of the girls, she had long black hair, approached him carefully, taking a seat next to him, but he only growled at her to leave him alone. And she did, with a pouting mouth and cursing under her breath.

Draco was just about to order another glass of Bourbon, when he noticed Hermione getting up and walking toward the bathrooms. This was his chance. He got up and sauntered over to Wood.

"Well, if that isn't a surprise. Wood, what brings you here?" Draco asked, feigning shock.

"Malfoy, Draco Malfoy, isn't it? Well, I'll be damned. What are you up to?" Wood shook his hand briefly and offered him to sit down on the other side of Hermione's stool.

"Not much, just having some time out from all the work," Draco said in an overly friendly fashion.

"Same here, as a matter of fact, I'm here with my date."

Draco perked up. "Oh really? Well, I hope she's a beauty."

"That, she is," Oliver replied, looking around, briefly, to see if Hermione was on her way back.

"Married, Oliver?" Draco asked him next.

"No, of course not, I wouldn't be here with my date otherwise. You?"

"As a matter of fact, yes, I am. Well, I'm about to get married shortly. We are already engaged," Draco explained. He didn't have to try to sound sincere. It was second nature to him to act in any situation necessary. "You might know her from Hogwarts; she was a Gryffindor, just like you and best friends with Potter."

Draco's words had the necessary effect he had hoped for. Wood was clearly displaying discomfort by now.

"What's her name?" he asked, a bit shocked. It didn't take a rocket scientist to figure out who Potter's best friends were.

"Hermione Granger," Draco answered and beamed at Wood's crestfallen face. He couldn't help it. Just to spite Hermione and to give Oliver Wood something to think about, he went on.

"Yeah well, we have a three year old son together. I thought it was about time to do the right thing and get married," he explained airily and watched Wood clenching and unclenching his fists.

They both turned their heads toward Hermione, when she approached the bar. Wood stood up, his barstool nearly keeling over, and walked toward Hermione. Draco couldn't hear their exchange of words, but by the look on her face, he knew that it couldn't have been good. She made an attempt to follow Wood, but then swung fully around and walked toward him with determined steps.

"What the hell are you doing here, Malfoy, and what the hell did you say to Oliver?" she hissed, shooting daggers at him, that could have killed him on the spot.

He gave her a one-sided grin, but before he could answer she rounded him and snatched her purse off the bar.

"No, you know what? Don't even answer that, Malfoy, because I'm not interested in your explanations. It seems you have trouble finding your own date and so you ruin it for everyone else," she snapped and finally looked up into his face. "You are a looser, Malfoy."

With those words she left him behind, walking quickly to the exit and hoping she might just be able to still catch up with Oliver Wood and explain her current situation.

The odd thing was that Oliver had mentioned something about a son to her. She thought hard about his exact words, piecing together the last few minutes after she had come back from the lady's room.

It had been something to the effect of her staying home with her son, instead of going out and dating single guys. And then, she had heard him say something about Malfoy and wedding, which had confused her even more. Unfortunately, the music had been too loud for her to hear it clearly.

And now he was gone.

It was chilly out on the street and Hermione wrapped her arms about her, while scanning the area for any sign from Wood, but he had apparated.

The night was clear and even though it was a bit cool, she decided to walk home instead of hailing down a cab or apparating herself. She had to think and the walking would do her good.

She had just rounded the corner of King and Murtle Street, when strong arms wrapped themselves around her shoulder and waist.

"I need to talk to you," said an all too familiar silken voice into her ear.

"**Let go of me this instant, Draco Malfoy,"** she spat, before a hand clasped over her mouth. Two seconds later the spot, where they had stood, lay deserted.


	11. Chapter 11

Thanks for all the reviews again. I know the last chapter wasn't super exciting, but I still hope you guys liked it. I know that everybody is awaiting the time when Draco finally comes clean, but I loooove suspense, the more the better. It will come, no doubt about it, but I'd like to stretch the suspense just a little longer. Hope you guys forgive me for this.

**11. Ginny's Preposterous Predictions**

Draco portkeyed directly into the Malfoy Manor, his arms still tightly wrapped about Hermione's abdomen.

It took her a little while to steady herself after landing on the floor, Draco's arms catching most of the impact.

Quickly she wiggled herself free from his embrace and shot around to face him.

"WHAT THE HELL ARE YOU DOING? ARE YOU MAD? YOU CANNOT APPARATE WITH SOMEONE UNEXPECTED. WE COULD HAVE BEEN SPLINCHED, YOU… IDIOT!" Hermione's eyes sparkled madly at him, at the same time pulling out her wand and holding it under his chin.

"Calm down, Granger. Who said anything about Apparition. I'm not daft." Draco held up his hand and showed her the large silver snake ring adorning his finger, and added:" It's a portkey."

"You better watch it, Malfoy. I'm very quick with hexes. I could slice you in half, right about now," she hissed, her voice subdued, but silky sweet and dangerous. It had the necessary effect on Draco, as he held up his hands in defeat.

"Blimey Granger, will you stop pointing that thing at me? Besides, I've been through more slicing curses than you have hair on your head."

"I don't think so, Malfoy. The wand stays where it is until you tell me what you wanted to talk to me about, so that I may be on my way home in the next few minutes."

Draco had been so sure about telling her everything; telling her that Marcel was her son; telling her how much he had wanted her since fourth year; telling her of his strong feelings for her, but he couldn't. A lump in his throat prevented him from bringing forth a single word.

He swallowed hard, all the while attempting to control his frayed nerves. Part of him wanted to profess his love for her. He wanted to show her, that he wasn't the guy she took him for. But it would mean opening up to the one person, who could tear him down, if she so wished. It was a gamble and he hated to loose. He knew he couldn't bare it, if she would laugh in his face afterward. Draco had always been careful to show his true feelings. It had been beat into him by his famous father to never show his true thoughts.

'_A Malfoy is always in charge; a Malfoy doesn't cry; a Malfoy has the utmost control over himself; a Malfoy doesn't show feelings, not even to his family;'_

How many times had he heard these rants from his father, while being beaten, kicked or hexed with the Sicing hex or Cuciatus curse. There were too many to count.

He looked down at Hermione. She was so beautiful. He had to look twice, when he spotted her in the club, in her black dress, with high-heeled shoes and her hair made up. Once he had made certain that it was her, he could scarcely contain himself while watching Oliver Wood sitting close to her and holding her hand. Hermione was his little witch and no other man had the right to touch her. Draco's possessiveness, one of his less charming flaws, but equally as strong as his father's, was powerful enough to push any rational thoughts aside.

Hermione shook him out of his reverie, her wand poking into his neck.

"How much longer are you going to stand here? Tell me what you wanted, already," she exclaimed louder and with an impatient air about her.

With the reflexes of a snake Draco snatched the wand out of her hand and grinned triumphantly.

"Do you really think you can strike fear into me, Granger? Remember, I'm an ex-deatheater."

"You should scratch the "Ex" part. You are still a deatheater, Malfoy. Now, give me back my wand."

"Not so fast, Granger, I don't like being at the receiving end of your wand, especially not in my own house."

"You wouldn't be, if you weren't always such an arse, Malfoy."

Draco grinned at that.

"But you like my arse, don't you? Boring guys never did it for you."

"You don't know anything about me, ferret. Give me my wand!"

Hermione stepped forward hopping up and down to reach her wand, but he held it high above his head and out of reach.

"No!" he answered, grinning down at her.

"FINE! Let's get this over with. Tell me why you brought me here." Hermione huffed madly and crossed her arms in front of her chest.

To make a point, she tapped her foot impatiently, all the while muttering about how childish he was acting.

Draco looked down on her and for a fraction of a second Hermione noticed his uncertainty.

"Well?" she asked, again.

"I brought you here to tell you something very important," he began, then hesitated.

"Alright, I got that part, now what is so important?"

He couldn't; he just couldn't tell her. He had to act quickly before he made himself a complete fool and stammered: "Marcel needs you. He has grown extremely fond of you in the last two days."

It wasn't a complete lie, Draco thought. Marcel had been talking _ad nauseam_ about his new Nanny, so much in fact, that even the house-elves had grown annoyed with him.

Hermione shot him an incredulous look, trying to process what he had just said. Naturally, she was flattered that the boy had taken to her so much, but couldn't Draco have told her that in the morning?

She drew her eyebrows together and watched him closely.

"I don't understand. This is the important thing you wanted to tell me?"

Draco nodded and smirked.

"Malfoy, I cannot believe you. You broke up my date, followed me, and then portkeyed me into your manor in the middle of the night to tell me this? I mean, couldn't you have waited until tomorrow?"

"No, sorry, Granger, I couldn't wait. You still don't seem to understand, that Marcel means everything to me. And he should have everything. Right now he fancies you and I want to give him what he needs."

Hermione snorted.

"Yes, so he can grow up just like you – a spoiled rotten kid, thinking the world revolves around him. Good job, Dad."

"Watch who you talk to, Granger. I can make your life very uncomfortable in a short period of time. Believe me, you don't want that." Draco hadn't meant to say it, but as always when in her presence, he just couldn't stop the old battle.

"Are you threatening me?"

"No, I'm just merely stating facts."

Hermione eyed Draco cautiously, before she went on.

"By the way, what in the world did you tell Oliver Wood?"

"That's none of your business."

"Oh, but it is. Before he left, he told me to go home to _my son_. He also mentioned something of a wedding. It didn't make any sense."

"He was probably drunk, or you didn't hear him correctly. Nevertheless, I was just protecting you."

Hermione cocked her head to the side with disbelief clearly showing on her face.

"PROTECTING ME? For Merlin's sake, Malfoy, from what do I need protection?"

"From Wood, of course, and all the other hungry blokes, who were staring you up and down. What else? Why the hell do you have to wear something skimpy like this anyway?" Draco chided while lifting the strap of her dress up with his index finger and letting it snap back down. "You look like a todger (british for cock) tease in this."

"EXCUSE ME?"

Hermione stepped back, utterly shocked and in disbelief.

"Who the hell are you to tell me what and what not I can wear? Besides my dress is very appropriate and stylish and there is absolutely nothing wrong with what I'm wearing. You are worse than Ron and Harry, which is saying something. I'm twenty one years old and perfectly capable of taking care of myself, thank you very much. Now give me my wand, so I can leave." She huffed incredulously, before a thought struck her. Was Malfoy jealous? Although inconceivable, it certainly was a possibility.

"Yes, you are twenty one and flaunting your body for everyone to see. YOU didn't see their faces, Granger, tongues hanging to the floor and foam around the mouths, you could practically see what they were up to."

'_Yep, jealous'_

"Codswallop, Malfoy. Wood isn't like that," she answered, trying to suppress a smirk.

"Isn't he? R-A-P-E was firmly spelled on his forhead," he exclaimed with as much emphasis on the four-letter-word as possible.

"Oh, but gallivanting about with your half naked Slytherin Godess in the presence of your son, not to mention me, is quite alright?" Hermione retorted sarcastically. She grew angrier with each minute that went by and knew, if she had to stay any longer in Malfoy's presence, she would blow a vessel in her head.

"That's different."

"DIFFERENT? I don't think so Malfoy. It's just like it; the same exact thing. Now, give me my bloody wand."

"Fine, here," Draco sighed and handed Hermione her wand back. "But before you go . . ." Draco turned around and opened a drawer, pulling something that looked like a muggle camera out of it and showed it to her. "I thought this might help with the investigation. Since you are muggle, perhaps you know how to operate one of them?"

Hermione's eyes lid up as she realized that he held a digital video camera in his hand; one of the newer models, too.

She took it and examined it.

"I thought this might be less intrusive. Any magical device could easily be detected in Zabini's house. I'm sure he thinks of checking everything at all times. Come to think of it, he always had an obsessive way about him, checking everything twice and trice. Anyway, it won't give off any magical waves. And it's small enough to hide in his home."

"Nice one," Hermione said with a big grin on her face. "But are you sure you still want to do this?"

Draco took the camera out of her hands and held her gaze with his, a slick expression on his face.

"Sure I'm sure, under one condition, that you move into the Malfoy Manor and become my full-time Nanny for the time being."

Hermione paused a moment, assessing his face. The question, why he wanted her to move in so badly, was clearly stamped upon her face, yet she didn't give voice to it.

Taking a deep breath, she finally answered.

"Alright, but I still have to pack a few things. I can be here tomorrow morning, though."

Draco's face broke into a big smile, but quickly reposed. This was like Christmas, no, better than Christmas. He finally had Hermione to himself.

_BREAK_

Hermione was tired after apparating back into her flat. All she wanted to do is fall into her bed, not even worrying about such things as getting undressed or brushing her teeth, but it wasn't in her nature to procrastinate, so she forced herself to stay awake and pack her things first.

Carefully, as not to wake Ginny, who had come back sometime during the night, she made her way to her room, scanning over the note Ginny had left her underneath her own scribble.

'Wow, Mione, Wood is a very eligible bachelor. Can't wait to hear the juicy parts of the evening. Wake me up when you get in, ok?'

That's exactly what Hermione didn't feel like doing right about now. Her nerves were frayed enough.

She put the note down on her nightstand and grabbed a large gym bag from inside her closet. She figured she'd only need one week's worth of clothing. She'd come back every weekend anyway.

With an armful of clothes she had just walked back to the bed and the gym bag, when the door creaked open.

"Hermione, what are you doing?" Ginny was standing in the doorframe, her hair in tangles and her eyes still half closed.

It took a while for Ginny to realize what exactly happened before her, but as soon as she did, her eyes popped open, followed up by her mouth.

"WHAT? You're packing? Why?"

Hermione knew there was no way around it. An explanation was in order. She plumped onto her large bed and padded a spot next to her. Ginny took the invitation.

"Ginny, please don't get upset about this, but … Malfoy invited me to live in his Manor and become a full-time nanny."

"WHAT, no way Hermione. That git?" Ginny was speechless, not in the literal sense, of course, for she suffered from an incessant plethora of speech.

Hermione rolled her eyes and then began telling her everything that had taken place in the last few days, from her constant run-ins with Malfoy to her ruined evening with Wood. After she finished, there was a moment of silence, long enough for Ginny to try to absorb it all.

Then something happened that baffled Hermione more than anything she'd ever come across. Ginny stood up and walked to the door. Not turning around, she said, "Well, have fun, Hermione."

"Wait, Gin! You are upset with me, aren't you?" Hermione asked, sure she had just lost her best friend. But to her other surprise, Ginny turned around, her eyes twinkling Dumbledore style, and a mischievous grin plastered on her face. That girl was always full of shockers, Hermione thought. Due to Ginny's natural looks and her simple nature, it was hard to canvas the idea, that the girl's character was as deep as Loch Ness and as complicated as muggle arithmetic. Hermione had to admit, that, so far she had only scratched the surface of understanding her friend truly.

"I'm not upset at all, Mione. I always knew he'd come forward one of these days,"

Hermione gave her a most confused look. "What do you mean?"

"Oh, Hermione, you are really not getting it, are you?" Ginny replied, while rolling her eyes at Hermione's lack of awareness.

"He has been gushing around you since fourth year, since you slapped him silly," Ginny grinned at this, and sat back down next to her friend. "Have you never noticed?"

Hermione turned pale for a moment, to be replaced shortly after by a deep crimson color, which ended at her ears and hairline.

"Impossible! Draco Malfoy has been so thoroughly nasty to me all these years . . . I mean, this is Malfoy we are talking about, Gin."

Ginny gave her a superior look, as if Hermione was the quivering student before her stern schoolmaster.

"Yeah, well, I don't expect **_YOU_** to know the little subtle innuendos of the love game, Hermione. I mean, you never _really_ had a boyfriend."

"OH? Then what do you call Ron?"

Ginny laughed at that. "Ron? Ron's a big oaf when it comes to the fine art of romancing someone. Not even you could possibly learn from him. Besides, you never had sex with him or any other boy I know of."

Hermione jumped up at that, facing Ginny angrily.

"AND WHO ARE YOU? DR. RUTH?"

Ginny drew her eyebrows together in question. "Who?"

Hermione waved her hand. "You wouldn't know, of course, it's a muggle sex ed. teacher, TV show style." Then she rounded on Ginny again. "Besides, sorry to disappoint you, but I did have sex before. I'm not the old maiden you take me for."

At that Ginny's eyes nearly popped out of her head. "But I thought . . . I swore you were still . . . how come I didn't notice? Who?" She stammered nearly as bad as Professor Quirrel in their first year at Hogwarts.

Hermione grinned triumphantly. "Yes, it's true. I'm not lying. It was during seventh year, shortly after I found your brother cheating on me. And, it was the best night of my life," Hermione gushed dreamily and by glancing at Ginny, she knew her act had been convincing enough. Not that she had lied about having had sex before, but the trouble was, that she remembered near to nothing about the particular night. Every now and then, she could recall an odd scene here or there, but the most parts had been drowned in her drunken stupor. All she knew was, that it had been a steamy and very erotic night, and that she had felt thoroughly shagged and content the next morning.

Ginny jumped up and wiggled excitingly, as if she had just been told of a grand prize winning of one million galleons.

"Who was it, Hermione? You must tell me everything. Oh please, tell me!" she squealed eagerly.

Hermione's face fell. She hadn't thought about that. Come to think of it, she had never really wasted a thought on who her one-night-encounter was. It was strange, but she always knew that she knew, but thinking about it, she didn't. Or in other words, at the time and afterward, she knew exactly who it was, but now the memory of it seemed to have been erased.

Confused she sat back down and closed her eyes, trying desperately to conjure up a face she'd recognize.

Ginny ripped her out of her thoughts. "You don't know, or you don't remember?"

Hermione opened her eyes and took a long look at her friend, before she answered.

"The truth is, I don't remember. It's weird, but . . . I swore I knew and now I don't."

"That doesn't make any sense, Hermione."

"No it doesn't," she giggled. "I was drunk that night. It was the night after I caught Ron and Parvati. I do remember that it was the hottest night I have ever experienced. So why don't I remember his face?"

Ginny shook her head. "I don't know. You must have been either sloshed to the point of no return, or someone used a memory charm on you." Her eyes began sparkling crazily, while she added, "Maybe it was Malfoy, and he just wanted to hide the fact that he had shagged the only girl in Hogwarts who despised him."

"Ginny, one has to be barmy coming up with the stories you do. There is no way I shagged Malfoy. I would know that."

"Oh really? How would you know if he put something in your drink or indeed used a memory charm, eh?"

Hermione rolled her eyes at that. "Simple, I would know, because I wouldn't have had sex with him in the first place."

"Hermione, listen to me. I wouldn't put it past Malfoy to erase your memory after shagging you."

Hermione was near the breaking point. How could she explain Ginny that a **_thing _**between them was impossible? They were arch enemies since the beginning of first grade.

"Malfoy would never shag me. He never had a crush on me, or was gushing around me, as you put it. He hated me with a passion and I hated him equally if not more."

Ginny poked a finger painfully into Hermione's chest. "There, you said it! He hated you with a _PASSION_. I mean, come of it Hermione, you of all people should know that hate and love are very closely related. Both are powerful emotions and can be easily confused. Why do you think Malfoy was giving you so much attention? Why would he go out of his way to taunt you? Don't you think he'd ignore you completely, if he didn't care about you?"

"But . . . he just wanted to make my life miserable, he . . ." Hermione retorted.

"He taunted you, because he liked you . . . a lot. I watched him plenty of times after a row between you both, you stomping off and he following you with his cronies, staring at your arse, or making wolf whistles when you were out of earshot. I noticed a few times that he took a longer way to the dungeons just so he would run into you, Harry and Ron, but mainly you. I'm not daft Hermione. I watch, that's what I do. One time I even heard him talk to Zabini about you. It was the day after you had fallen into the lake during sixth year, remember? You blouse was practically see-through. I'm not even going to tell you what they were discussion after having watched you storm toward the great entrance. Or the time when Ron snogged you openly in the Great Hall, you should have seen his face; if looks could kill, Ron would've been a goner."

"You are so dead wrong, Ginny."

"No I'm not. Wait here," she ordered and left quickly. Hermione heard noises coming from Ginny's room, while she apparently rummaged around her closet. Ten seconds later she was back, holding a piece of paper toward Hermione.

"I caught this during Runes Class. Remember, when they put the fifth and sixth years together, because the teacher was ill? Draco drew that and was throwing it at your desk, but he missed. It landed in my lap instead. He tried to take it from me later, but didn't succeed as you can see."

Hermione opened the crunched up piece of parchment and instantly blushed.

The drawing depicted clearly an animated Draco Malfoy humping a girl with familiar bushy hair on a flying broom. To make sure who the girl was, he had placed her name next to the drawing. Hermione's inky counterpart opened her mouth in a big "O" indicating climax, while Draco grinned devilishly.

"That's just sick," she huffed, while staring at the drawing. "Can I have that?"

"Sure, it's yours anyway," Ginny answered, shrugging her shoulders.

Hermione rushed past her in a mad dash, her dress billowing out behind her. She brusquely walked to the fireplace and tossed the parchment into the flames, watching it disintegrate and smolder into ashes.

Satisfied she turned around to Ginny who had followed her into the sitting room.

"I don't know why you kept it for all those years, Gin? It's absolutely disgusting to say the least."

"I don't know. I don't throw things away very often," she answered, and truthfully, for Hermione had seen Ginny's room stuffed to the brim with everything imaginable.

"Do you believe me now?" Ginny asked hopeful, glancing carefully at the other witch.

"Believe what?"

"That he had a thing for you the entire time. I think he's in loves with you."

Hermione groaned at that. "He's not in love with me. He doesn't have a thing for me either and never had. Ginny, you read entirely too many romance novels. Perhaps you should focus instead on reality a bit more. Regarding the drawing, he probably just wanted to get a rise out of me."

"If you say so, Hermione." Ginny made a face, turned around and walked into her bedroom without even saying "Good Night".

As much as Hermione hated for Ginny to be upset with her, she didn't want to strengthen the girl in her crazy illusions. Ginny had always had a knack for seeing romance everywhere she went. Determined to write her a quick note in the morning, she walked back into her room to finish packing. Then she changed into some short bottom pj's and a tank top brushed her teeth quickly and hopped into bed. Before she turned the lights out, she grabbed one of the dreamless sleep potions; she had a stack of them in her nightstand drawer just for cases like this, and gulped it down.

This, she hoped, would at least give her a few hours of restful sleep.

_BREAK_

The next morning flew by way too fast. Hermione had only two minutes to sit down and take a few sips of her extra strong, black coffee, before she took a shower and dressed quickly. She wore a long black skirt that clung to her form and a white blouse. The September days were getting cooler now, particularly in London, so she decided to wear her light cloak. She quickly spelled a bit of make up onto her face, and her hair into a manageable mess, before grabbing her gym bag and apparating to the Malfoy Manor.

She was glad she had remembered to write Ginny a note before leaving. Hopefully, by the time she'd get back on Saturday, Ginny would be her old self again.

The air was crisp, when Hermione arrived. She could smell the salty ocean air and once again was entranced by the Manor and its magical surroundings. 'Almost like paradise', she mused and rapped on the door with the knocker, before adjusting her cloak. She couldn't wait to see Marcel again. She hadn't realized it before, but she missed his little angel face, the dashing smile and his deep blue eyes.

The door clicked open only an inch. Hermione drew her eyebrows together and waited. Where was Morphy? After a few more seconds, she carefully stepped closer and pushed against the door with her flat hand. Perhaps the Malfoy's owned an automatic door buzzer, just like some muggle houses? She shifted slightly and pushed the door open wide enough so she could slip through. 'Yes, that must be it. Perhaps the house-elves were busy and couldn't come to the door personally,' she thought and stepped inside.

As soon as she closed the door behind her and turned around, a black mass of robes and the unmistakable silky drawl of the person she loathed the most, next to Voldemort himself of course, startled her so much that she let go of her bag, it crashing onto the floor in a loud bang.

"Ms. Granger, fancy meeting you here," Professor Snape gushed, before assessing her with a stern expression.

"Wha . . . What are you doing here?" Hermione exclaimed, while fumbling for her wand. As soon as she felt the smooth material, she pulled it out and pointed it at the old Potions Master.

"Funny, I was just about to ask you the same question," he drawled before sneering at her wand. "Now, now, girl, is that any way to show respect for your former teacher?"

"HA," Hermione let out, before continuing her tirade. "You are no teacher of mine. You are a murderer and a traitor, Severus Snape. You should have been locked up in Azkaban right next to Lucius Malfoy. That's where you belong."

At that moment Draco made his way down the stairs, looking curiously from Hermione to his godfather.

"Blimey, Severus, you seem to loose no time to strike fear into your former student," he said with a malfoyish smirk on his lips. "It must be your explosive charm."

Draco reached the bottom of the stairs and walked casually over to the pair.

"You can put your wand away now, Granger."

"HELL NO!" she shouted never leaving her eyes off Snape. "I'm sure the Aurors will be happy to have finally caught the man most sought after by the ministry. I suggest you don't move an inch, dear Professor," she ordered, after catching Snape move forward slowly.

"Ms. Granger," he began, his typical sneer turning into a light smirk. Something Hermione had never seen or experienced on the man. "Perhaps it would be prudent to calm yourself and think rational, before jumping to conclusions. I know, it's not an easy concept for you to grasp, but do try, for as much as I enjoy your outbreak, it nevertheless won't serve any purpose." This comment he followed up with a thorough assessment of her whole body, lending special interest to her heaving breasts.

Hermione was shocked into silence. Had her old Professor just looked at her in a sort of sexual way? It was unprecedented that the sexless bat of the dungeons should harbor any romantic or sexual feelings at all. And it made her nearly sick.

Draco took advantage of her being momentarily stunned, and took the wand out of her hand.

She whipped around and glared at Draco. "Still the deatheater, I see," she noticed, hoping her voice wouldn't give away on how scared she felt without her wand and in the presence of the two deatheaters. "And I really thought you had changed."

Draco gave a short laugh, placed his arm around her waist and kissed her forehead lightly.

Hermione stepped back, removing his arm.

"Look, Granger. I'm not saying my godfather is an angel," the statement elicited a snort from the other, "he has been guilty of killing many people during Voldemort's reign, but he didn't kill Dumbledore. Or . . . at least not in that sense," Draco explained, hoping against hope that Hermione would understand.

"I have proof, Hermione that my godfather only acted under direct orders from Dumbledore."

"Dumbledore would never give such an order. He knew how much he was needed at Hogwarts, to protect the students and keep everyone safe from Voldemort and his deatheater scum," Hermione chided, her anger taking on new dimensions.

That's when Snape stepped closer to her, boring his black eyes into hers. "Ms. Granger, Dumbledore was dying. He knew he didn't have much time left. He was inclined to help Draco. It was a ruse, played out well by our dear Headmaster. He sacrificed himself to save scores of other people, particularly Draco and your friend Potter. It wasn't easy for me to cast the killing curse on him, but I did what needed to be done."

By now he had stepped so closely to Hermione that she nearly had to tip back her head all the way in order to look into his face. He was looming over her and she could feel his breath caressing her skin. Time seemed to have stood still during their staring contest, but was finally interrupted by Draco.

"Now, now, Severus, she's not for you to have," Draco chided, before continuing, while turning to Hermione. "Look, if you don't believe us, there is proof. Professor Dumbledore left a pensieve with his thoughts and orders for everyone to view. But he also warned us, that a lot of time would have to pass, before we could use this proof to save Severus. Right now, the Ministry doesn't seem open to any suggestions of that sort."

Hermione could only look stunned from one face to the other, before she stammered quietly, "Let me see Dumbledore's last thought, please."

Cliffy, I know, I'm terrible like that :)


	12. Chapter 12

I had writers block for a very long time, but I'm still hoping I'll be able to finish this story (despite my busy schedule)

Thank you to everyone who left such nice and encouraging comments. But now to chapter 12.

**12. The Secrets of Severus Snape**

Hermione abandoned her bags in the hallway and followed the two men into Draco's office, closing the door behind her.

She watched Draco open the tudor and curiously stepped nearer to take a look inside it, but before she could get a closer look at all the treasures, he had pulled out one of two pensieves and shut the lid. 'What does he need so many pensieves for?' Hermione thought intrigued, but didn't give voice to her question. Instead, she moved closer to the desk.

"Well, come here, Granger," Draco drawled, an overly confident smirk on his face. He motioned for her to sit down on his office chair.

Hermione walked around the desk and took a seat.

This was it. Now she would lastly find out what had happened on that faithful night. Did she really want to see Headmaster Dumbledore die, again? She quickly glanced at Draco, kneading her trembling hands.

"It's ok, Granger. You won't see him die. In it, you only find the last conversation between Severus and Dumbledore," he answered her unspoken thoughts.

She nodded and took a deep breath. Slowly she bent forward, closer and closer, until she only saw the silvery swirls before her. One more inch and she was sucked into the pensieve.

At first she spun so fast that she nearly lost her meager breakfast, and then suddenly she stopped. 'Sometimes I feel like I'm Alice in Wonderland', she mused, almost expecting to run into a white rabbit. Slowly the grey mist lifted and she began discerning shapes and colors all around her. She found herself in the Astronomy Tower, but why the hell was she there? Then she saw two shadows leaning against a wall near one of the open windows. She caught a glimpse of something sparkling on the floor and stepped closer. Squinting intently into the darkness, she realized that it was a bottle of fire whiskey carelessly placed on the stone floor. Why would Snape and Dumbledore meet here in this unsafe place to discuss such important news? Everybody could sneak up here and listen to their conversation. It seemed an odd place to conduct business, not to mention the fact that they were imbibing alcohol. Very strange, Hermione thought and focused next on the figures before her.

She stepped closer to the pair and shielded her eyes from the moonlight shining directly onto her face.

The first thing she saw was a wisp of white hair, but unlike Dumbledore's knee-length hair, this one was short. Another startling revelation was that the figure didn't possess Dumbledore's meter long beard. Hermione doubted that he would have shaved. She was sure it took him years upon years to grow a beard of that length.

Hermione shook her head and began focusing on the other figure, when suddenly they stepped closer together and began kissing each other.

Shocked she walked up to the pair, knowing that this couldn't have been Snape or Dumbledore, nearly stumbling into them, when she heard her own voice speak.

"I don't know about this Draco. Don't you hate me?"

"Yeah, but so what, you hate me too. So, we are even," Pensieve-Draco answered.

Hermione clapped a hand in front of her mouth. 'Oh, my god! I can't believe I'm actually fraternizing with Malfoy. Eeewww," she chided, wondering what would happen next, but before she could make herself comfortable and watch, a hand shot out from behind her and pulled her up.

Hermione fell into the office chair nearly tipping it over, but steadied. Confused she looked around, still hoping to be in the Astronomy Tower, but recognized quickly that she had been pulled out of the pensieve.

She looked up and noticed the same shock on Malfoy's face which, no doubt, she was displaying on her own face.

"MALFOY!" was all she brought out, clenching her jaw tightly together.

"That . . . that was the wrong pensieve," he answered and quickly exchanged the one for the other. How could he have been so careless? What was wrong with him these days?

With slightly trembling hands he grabbed the other pensieve and walked toward Hermione, who stared at him open-mouthed.

Severus had been leaning against a bookcase the entire time, watching the scene curiously and with a certain air of interest. He smirked slyly, pushed off of the bookshelf and took slow strides to toward an armchair near the fireplace, his eyes transfixed on Draco, while he took a seat.

He certainly had the option to remain quiet and let things develop without any meddling, but he had always found it exhilarating to watch his former students squirm in embarrassment. Why should Snape forego such pleasure now? He hadn't indulged in any kind of pleasure for years, being on the run from the Ministry and other dubious figures still grazing Great Britain, he barely had the pleasure to remain in one location long enough to settle in. His eyes met Draco's pleading ones and the smile on his face grew broader. Draco knew the signs all too well.

"I'm surprised, Draco, that you haven't told her, yet," he said silkily. It wasn't a bold statement, but enough of a hint to make Ms. Know-It-All curious and by the look on her face, he had accomplished just that.

"What do you mean, Professor? What's going on?" Hermione asked, glancing from one to the other.

Neither seemed to have noticed, nor did they interrupt their staring contest.

Hermione stood slowly and turned to Malfoy with questioning eyes, but he remained motionless, transfixed on his former Professor.

"Malfoy?" she attempted again, but still, no reaction.

"For Merlin's sake, would someone please tell me what's going on?" she cried and whipped around to Snape.

A knock was heard at that moment and Morphy appeared at the door. "Young Master Malfoy is done with his breakfast, Sir. Shall Morphy show the Miss her room, now?" he asked with hunched shoulders. There was no doubt that the elf noticed the heavy tension in the air.

Finally, after what felt like ages, Draco turned around, regarding the house-elf, his face as white as a sheet.

"Yes, that would be fine, Morphy. We are almost finished here. Once she's viewed her room and unpacked, you will bring her to the study room to continue Marcel's studies."

"Yes, Sir," Morphy bowed deeply and motioned Hermione to follow him, but Hermione wasn't in the mood to execute Draco's orders. As a matter of fact, she was beginning to get tired of his haughty ways and would put a stop to all this before it could get out of hand.

"I'm not going anywhere, until you tell me what's going on, Malfoy," she stated firmly, leaning against the desk and crossing her arms. "Most importantly, I want to know why you put fake thoughts of some sick rendezvous we supposedly had into a pensieve. If this is some sort of bloody joke on my account, then I'd watch my step if I were you."

Hermione reached into her robe searching for her wand, when she realized that he still had it.

"Nothing is going on, Granger," he answered curtly, his voice laced with venom. He placed her wand on his desk and stormed out of the study.

Hermione stared after him for what felt like ages, unable to grasp a clear thought. What was going on here? 'Something fishy, that was sure,' she contemplated, before Snape loudly cleared his throat and interrupted her jumbled thoughts. She whipped around to face him.

"You know something, Professor. I know you do," she nearly whispered, too shocked to raise her voice beyond the heavy knot she felt in her throat. Her whole body was trembling in anger.

Snape shifted in his seat and swung one leg over the other in a lazy sort of way. He certainly enjoyed the famous Gryffindor squirming under his watchful gaze. She was waiting impatiently for an answer, twiddling with her fingers, shuffling her feet as if she stood on hot coals. It was bliss to watch her torture herself, while he looked on, unfazed.

He took so long to answer, that she nearly jumped when he finally spoke to her.

"I believe young Mister Malfoy has already given you the answer to your question, Ms. Granger. Beyond that, I wouldn't know what else to tell you," he answered her skillfully and stood up to leave the study.

For a moment she looked baffled at her former professor, but the expression was quickly replaced by rage.

With lightning speed she had managed to jumped toward the desk and grab her wand.

"Not so fast, dear Professor," she shouted out. Before long, Severus found him self, once again, at the receiving end of her wand, additionally she held the top of his robe frock in her tight little fist.

"Ms. Granger!" Severus let out in mock shock. "The lioness has finally awakened, how intriguing."

He swung her around before she could count the ticks between two seconds, and found herself laying on her back on an old fashioned chaise, her professor looming over her, and her wand suspended in midair as if being held up by an invisible string.

"Still the stupid little girl, who acts before she thinks," he said softly, but the sneer was still evident in his voice.

His face was so close that Hermione didn't dare to move away or even breathe. This was not the position she wanted to find herself in.

"Now, Ms. Granger, if you have calmed down a bit, perhaps you want to take a look at the other pensieve?"

Slowly he propped himself up and grabbed her arm, pulling her up with him.

As soon as both stood erect, he caught her wand before it clattered to the floor, all the while not taking his eyes off her face.

A moment's pause ensued, in which Hermione could only stare at her old Professor, the color of shame slowly creeping into her cheeks. Snape hadn't lost the all too familiar menacing present of authority that always surrounded him, and once again Hermione felt as if she were still in her second year.

"Al…alright," she stammered and walked toward the desk.

Before she knew it, she was once again sucked into the pensieve, but this time she found herself standing near the window in Dumbledore's office.

She didn't know what time it was. Only the darkness outside and the glow of the moon shining over the lake told her that it must have been fairly late in the evening.

She looked around the deserted office. Fawks, Dumbledore's pet phoenix, was the only living creature present. Most of the ancient Headmasters in the paintings were sleeping deeply.

Suddenly, Hermione could hear a rustling of soft silk and automatically looked up the circular staircase, which evidently lead to the Headmaster's chambers. Professor Dumbledore, clad in velvet night robes and matching fluffy slippers, made his way slowly down the stairs. His face was gaunt and the usual mischievous twinkle was replaced by fear.

He held his hand at an odd angle. He took the last step and moved slowly past Hermione.

His hand was charred and black and Hermione could see that he was in immense pain.

"Come in, Severus," he said, suddenly and glanced at the door. Not even a second later Hermione heard a polite knock, then the door swung open and in stepped Professor Snape.

"Why do you always have to do this Albus? Can one not at least knock properly before you answer?" He voiced with a mock sneer; yet his voice bespoke of the fondness he had for the Headmaster.

"Severus, you should know me better by now. Sit down, please," Dumbledore answered. Just then Hermione noticed how weak his voice truly sounded. Shocked and worried she stepped closer to the desk. She didn't want to miss a single word.

"Albus, I might have found something that may prolong the process tremendously. For one of the ingredients I will have to take a trip to the Amazons, but ….,"

"Severus!" Dumbledore interrupted. "I know you are trying everything in your power to help me, but there is no cure. We both know that. I came to terms with it and so should you."

"But, Albus…" said Snape, his face turning white.

"Please, Severus. Don't prolong my suffering. I'm sure you have noticed that I'm in tremendous pain. I deal with it, but I don't know how much longer I will be able to live this way," explained Dumbledore, glancing over his half-moon spectacles at the younger man.

"I've lived a long and eventful life, Severus. There is nothing that I haven't had the chance to do, or anyone I haven't had the chance to meet. But that is not the reason why I have asked you to come here tonight. I have been thinking long and hard," Dumbledore took a breath and Hermione could tell he was having a hard time. He looked exhausted.

"You gave your vow to Narcissa to protect Draco. We both know that he isn't capable of killing anyone. Despite his upbringing it's never been in him. I want you to be there during the planned attack. I want you to do the honors."

Severus turned from white to grey and swallowed hard. He jumped up and began pacing back and forth.

"You cannot ask this of me, Albus. Definitely, no, I won't do it!"

"There is no other way, Severus. If you do this for me, not only will it safe Draco, but also the rest of the school. It's me he wants," said the Headmaster and leaned back in his chair.

Severus stopped pacing and moved toward the window. Hermione automatically backed up to move out of his way and came to a halt right next to Severus.

A deep shudder came from the depths of his chest as he began to address Dumbledore.

"Headmaster, what you ask of me is beyond any crime I've ever committed. I murdered people I didn't know, I raped the innocent, I tortured the ones that didn't deserve it, but I cannot raise my wand against you, don't you understand?"

Severus took a deep breathe and continued to stare out of the window his hands placed on the window sill for support.

Dumbledore cleared his voice. "My son, do you remember the time I took you in and gave you a position at Hogwarts in order to keep you safe and to help redeem yourself?"

"Yes, of course, Albus. How could I forget."

"Then I'm sure you remember what I told you after you ask me when can you ever repay me?" Dumbledore questioned the younger man.

"You told me that the time will come when I'm able to repay you," Snape said softly almost in a whisper.

"Exactly!" said Dumbledore and got up with difficulty.

"Why would you pick such a horrid thing as payment?"

"Because, Severus, it's for the better of the school and all its pupils. My life has come to and end and I accept this. But you can help me greatly, if you won't let me suffer any longer. Let me die a martyr, Severus. Let me die doing one last good deed and help the unfortunate souls that still have to fight this horrid war."

There was a long pause. Hermione only heard the slow breathes and snores from the paintings and a tick tock from a clock. She had almost given up on finding out any further details when a sudden move right next to her made her jump.

Severus stood up taller and held his head a bit higher.

With a deep, shuddering breath he said: "Alright, Headmaster. I will do it. But I promise you that it will be the hardest thing I have ever done," he finished before his voice completely broke.

Just then, Hermione saw a tear making its way down the gaunt face of Professor Snape.

"Thank you, my son," Hermione heard the Headmaster say before she was thrown back out of the pensieve.

Hermione didn't notice right away the tears making there way silently down her face.

Shocked, yet with the utmost adoration she looked up and into the potions master's eyes.

"I . . . I didn't know. I am . . . so sorry, Professor."

His face was stern, but the corners of his mouth went up into a faint smile.

"This was obvious, Ms. Granger," Severus answered, before he too stepped out of the room, leaving Hermione behind.


	13. Chapter 13

**13. Chocolate Cakes and Wedding Bells**

Hermione stared at the door, long after the potions master had taken his exit. Millions of thoughts zipped through her mind in agonizing haste. It was impossible for her to form any coherent thought. Her mind kept drifting back to the scene in the astronomy tower, wondering what on earth it was all about. She would have to ask Malfoy, hoping he would answer her. Maybe, if she'd turn on her charm a bit it would help. Draco was stubborn, she knew. Forcing the answer out of him was a thing of impossibility. 

With her mind set on her next task, she got up from the chair. Severus' gaunt face and the tear on his cheek had made Hermione realize how much she still didn't know about her old professor. Indeed, the Slytherin lair as a whole was becoming more and more of a mystery to her. A snarky potions professor who showed emotions…if Hermione hadn't seen it, she wouldn't have believed it possible. And why would Draco keep fake thoughts of a non-existent rendezvous in his pensieve? Ginny's words suddenly rang in Hermione's mind. Perhaps the little redhead was right? Maybe, just maybe Ginny was on to something. 

Hermione shook her head and walked to the door. She had work to do and had to get to the study room. On her way up the stairs another thought struck her. Zabini! She still had to figure out how to bring this child molester to justice. Her head began to ache as she reached the end of the staircase. She turned right and headed for Marcel's study room.

Hermione's morning went by pretty quickly, and to her good fortune, Marcel's funny antics and his curious mind, kept all of her other worries at bay. He was a highly intelligent child, and it was amazing to watch his progress and quick uptake on everything she taught him.

The only difficulty she faced with Marcel was his stubbornness and his lack of attention to rules. His behavior was completely out of control. He never had a firm hand to teach him right from wrong. But with time Hermione knew she could calm his temper and change his mannerism. 

"Ok, Marcel, we are finished studying for the morning. Perhaps you would like me to read a book to you?" She asked, beaming down at the little boy.

A brought grin appeared on his face and he skipped to the bookshelf, pulling out the large volume of Grimm's stories.

Hermione nodded and padded the chair next to her. 

He ran back to her, but instead of the chair, he jumped on her lap. Hermione was a little taken aback and almost fell off her own seat from the sudden impact, but quickly righted herself and began reading.

Three stories they finished together, before a hall clock struck twelve, telling her that it was lunch time.

She lifted Marcel off her lap and closed the book.

"Minee?"

"Yes Marcel," Hermione answered looking down at the child.

"Where is my mummy?"

Hermione looked shocked for a moment and swallowed. She didn't know how to respond to this, nor was she prepared for such a question. What should she tell him?

"Your mummy is…. well … you see it's like this …. ." She was at a loss for words. Should she tell him that he didn't have a mother? But it wasn't true. He had to have a mother. Someone had given birth to Marcel, this was clear. But who? Draco had never answered her question as to who it was. Was it Pansy? But then surely he would have told her. After all, they were married for a short period of time, before she ran off with another man.

"Who?" Marcel asked again, this time more persistent. 

"I'm not sure Marcel. Perhaps you should ask you Daddy who it is?" she answered truthfully.

"He should ask me … _what_?"

Hermione spun around and saw Malfoy standing in the door. His trademark sneer on his face and his eyes as cold an arctic lake.

Hermione instantly stepped back a bit. 

"Oh, … he was just asking … who his mummy is." 

Hermione's voice sounded shaky. She composed herself and looked Draco straight into his eyes.

"Why haven't you told him, yet?" She asked a bit more forceful than she had hoped.

Draco walked over to Marcel and picked him up, before turning back to her, glaring at her.

"It's none of your business, Granger," he snapped and turned toward the door.

"But it is … he needs to know …. Aren't you going to tell him?"

"Yes Daddy," Marcel piped up, looking expectantly at Malfoy.

Draco averted his eyes from Hermione and looked lovingly at his son.

"I will tell you, Marcel, but right now is not the right time. Lunch is ready. Aren't you hungry?"

"I want to know, NOW!" yelled Marcel and wiggled around in his father's arms.

"We are having chocolate cake, Marcel," Draco bribed him.

"Chocate?" Marcel repeated, his face instantly relaxing.

"Yes, chocolate cake, for dessert," and turning to Hermione, he said, "I expect you can find your own way to the dining hall … Ms. Granger?" making a point to emphasize her surname, before he left into the hallway. He could have called her mudblood with all the coldness he had addressed her with.

Hermione was stunned and put off to say the least. How dare he treat her this way? She was really getting a tad bit tired of the act and swore to herself to have a talk with him as soon as the circumstances would allow it. After all, it wasn't her fault that Marcel asked for his mother. Every child should have a mother or at least know about her.

Huffing in indignation, she stepped out into the hallway and made her way to the dining room. 

"If I wouldn't know any better, I'd say you had a run in with a dementor, Draco," Severus commented, after seeing Draco enter the room with his son on his arm and his face as white as a sheet. "Or perhaps, a certain bushy haired know-it-all has taken your appetite away with her incessant questions?" Snape mused, chuckling softly.

"You can say that," replied Draco with clenched teeth, while putting his son on a chair and taking a seat next to him.

"How intriguing," said Snape and poured a glass of wine for Draco and himself.

"I assume she is not joining us for lunch then?"

Draco made a grunting sound and nodded.

Just then, Hermione stepped into the room and cautiously walked toward the table. After all this, she wasn't sure if she was welcome to eat with Mr. Big Arse Extraordinaire.

Draco looked up at her coldly and gave an impatient gesture with his arm.

"Well? Don't just stand there. Come on and sit down already. We won't bite," he exclaimed rudely, making it even harder for Hermione to keep her anger under control. Who did he think he was?

She took a seat on the opposite side of Draco, right next to Severus. After all the cold stares he'd given her, she almost welcomed sitting next to the old dungeon bat, rather than having to engage with a disgruntled Malfoy. 

The lunch affair was a silent one for the most part. Only occasionally, Marcel asked a question or commented on something, but even this ceased after the chocolate cake appeared before him.

Hermione watched in shock as Marcel pulled the cake closer to himself and dug into it with both his hands. She was about to say something, when a hand grabbed her arm roughly and pulled her to her feet. She turned around and looked right into Draco's sneering face. 

"I think there are a few things we need to discuss?" he hissed, digging his fingers painfully into her upper arm.

She was so shocked at the sudden move that she couldn't even let out a yelp in pain.

"Marcel, you sit tight and eat your cake. After that, Morphy will bring you into your room for a shower. Severus, I hope you don't mind, but I have to speak to my fiancée … in private."

"WHAT? Why do I have to go then?" Hermione yelped, but despite her weight and unwillingness to follow him, he nevertheless managed to pull her along.

They crossed the hallway and entered the office, Draco shutting the door behind him with a swish of his hand.

Hermione stared at him in disbelief. 

'Wandless magic? The git could do wandless magic? And what was that all about him having to have a talk with his fiancée? Was he engaged? Tracy perhaps, the sexy but brainless Slytherin girl? So why did he pull her, Hermione, along; as a mediator perhaps? Well, he had another thing coming. She could care less about him and his fiancée.

Draco shoved a stunned Hermione closer to an armchair and pushed her into it. Then he proceeded to walk back and forth in front of her, like a caged animal.

Hermione didn't know what to do or to say. She just watched him, her eyes wide open and her mouth dry. This went on for a good two minutes, until she couldn't stand his silence any longer. She just didn't know what to say. Should she apologize? But for what? She hadn't done anything that needed an apology.

"Draco, I … I really like your new haircut…" There, she had made the first step. It was high time she had said something to him anyway. She had noticed his short haircut in the club already and it suited him nicely. It was much better than the old fashioned style Lucius had. Besides, she really felt much more at ease with Draco when he wasn't looking like the spit image of his father.

Draco had stopped abruptly and stared at Hermione utterly confused.

"That's all you've got to say?" He asked.

"Well yeah, what else do you want to hear?"

"Well, thanks, I guess, but that's not why I pulled you into my office," he answered, gazing intently at her.

"I figured that, Malfoy, but …. I just wanted to break the ice. Besides you are wearing out the runner," said Hermione, pointing at his feet. 

He crossed his arms in front of his chest and shook his head in disbelief.

"Well, for starters, why didn't you say anything when I mentioned to Severus that I had to speak to my fiancée?"

Hermione rang her hands nervously. She really didn't like the way this conversation was going. 

"Why would I care? Whoever you are engaged to is your business, Malfoy. I'm sure that in due time I would find out who the "lucky" girl is?" Hermione let out a nervous snort, before clapping a hand to her mouth. She really didn't want to make fun of him.

"Oh … and who do you think my fiancée is?" Malfoy pressed on, his eyes becoming more intense. 

Hermione shook her head. 

"I don't know, maybe the brainless goddess I had the misfortune to meet a few days ago?" 

She knew he'd get pissed after her last comment, but she just couldn't help it. The nerve of him, asking her who his fiancée was … how the hell would she know? 

Draco's laugh ripped Hermione out of her reverie. She gave him a deathly glare, while he fell back into an armchair opposite her, holding his stomach in a fit of giggles.

"What's so funny, Malfoy?"

He took a deep breath and wiped a tear from his cheek.

"You are really funny sometimes, Granger. As a matter of fact, I haven't had so much fun since I left Hogwarts."

"Well, I'm glad I'm good for something, Malfoy, not that I can see the humor in this pathetic situation, but I'm ever so glad you do," huffed Hermione indignantly. The faster she could get back to the study room with Marcel the better.

"Let me make one thing clear, Malfoy, if you think that I will play hostess for your wedding to this dimwitted girl then you are sorely mistaken."

"Calm down Granger, she is … well was … just an easy fuck, that's all," he answered, his amused smile fading from his lips and being replaced by a mischievous twinkle in his eyes.

He scooted closer to her and took her hand.

"I want you to become my fiancée," he whispered, his thumb stroking the top of her hand.

Quickly Hermione pulled her hand away and stood up.

"What?"

"Will you be my fiancée?" Draco answered a bit louder, while looking up at her.

"NO, of course not," replied Hermione. "Why would I want to?"

Draco got up from his chair as well and slowly walked toward her. 

She quickly looked around for an escape route, and, spotting the door, inched her way toward it. 

What was up with him? He never acted that strange around her before? He hated her, didn't he?

"And why not?" asked Draco, all the while pursuing her like a bird its prey.

"Be … because … why would we? We HATE each other!"

He got closer to her, leading her toward the wall and further away from the door.

"Really? You mean, you hate me?" 

"Oh please, Draco, you have hated me since I stepped foot into Hogwarts. So don't give me that!" 

Hermione was near the wall now, reaching behind her, she could feel the expensive tapestry. One more step and she would be trapped.

"How would you know, Hermione? Don't act like you know me? You haven't got a clue about my feelings."

Hermione had to think fast, if she wanted to escape this situation. She quickly stepped sideways, but his arm caught her and pushed her against the wall.

"In case you haven't noticed, I've had a crush on you since you hit me in my jaw. I've been pursuing you ever since, and, if it hadn't been for Pisser Potter and his weasel, I would have succeeded."

"Oh, really?" answered Hermione glaring at him.

Draco's face was so close now that Hermione felt his breath on her own. She closed her eyes for a brief moment. Her head was spinning and she felt nauseas. Before she could think of her next course of action, his lips crashed down on hers. This was her undoing. She slowly leaned into him while he coaxed her mouth open. Hermione's knees felt weak, while their tongues entwined, fighting for dominance. 

It was wrong! It was all wrong! She had to stop this before it was too late. Her body had already begun to betray her, after his hand made its way down her side toward her hips and legs.

'Oh gods, please Merlin help,' Hermione prayed. She had to stop this! NOW! He deepened his kiss, his hand caressing her breast very lightly.

"Draco!"

"Yes?"

"STOP NOW!"

"No!"

With all the power she had in her she brought her hands around to his chest and shoved him away.

He looked at her. Was there hurt in his eyes?

"Don't you love me a bit, Hermione?"

He glanced at her hopeful.

She didn't know how to answer that. Did she love him? What kind of questions was this anyway? She hadn't thought about it. She had never canvassed the idea of liking Draco Malfoy, the boy who had made her life hell during her school years. 

But, deep down, hadn't she always liked the attention he had given her? And hadn't she felt a pang of jealously after watching Draco kiss the Slytherin harlot?

Perhaps, but Hermione wasn't about to admit this to anyone, least herself.

She shook her head resolutely.

"No, Draco, I don't love you, I never have and I never will. Now let me go!"

She hissed the last words, knowing it slashed through his self composure like a knife.

Draco held up his arms and stepped back.

"Sure! No problem. Go ahead and go then if you must. You can finish out the week. I will, of course, pay you for your services this week," said Draco, his voice sounding calm but cold.

He stepped further away from her, turned and left the room quickly.

A shudder went through Hermione's body and her knees gave out. She slid down the wall until she sat on the floor, not able to hold back the tears any longer. All the tension that had built up over the last few weeks finally came pouring out of her. Suddenly, she felt alone; utterly alone. What had she done? She remembered the hurt look on Draco's face and instantly felt sick in her stomach. Did she care for him? Why oh why did he continue to make her life hell? Why didn't he just go back to hating her and calling her a mudblood like before? Not that Hermione liked it very much, but at least it was familiar ground and she could deal with it, knew how to deal with it. 

She closed her eyes and leaned her head against the wall, not seeing the cool grey eyes watching her, before they disappeared behind a closing door.


	14. Chapter 14

14

**14. Mission Impossible Slytherins**

It was past midnight when Hermione finally fell asleep. It wasn't easy for her to fall asleep in a strange bed, surrounded by an unfamiliar environment, and with her head filled to the brim with the current issues, but she had managed to doze off after lying awake for over an hour.

After Marcel's bath, Hermione had completed the lessons with him for the afternoon, followed by some playtime. She knew he must have fallen asleep right after dinner. He had already been yawning at the table. They both had taken their dinner alone; no Severus Snape or Draco in sight. But it was just as well for Hermione. She didn't know if she could have dealt with them at the time.

After Marcel had been brought to bed by Morphy, she finally had the time to inspect her own bedroom quarters and was impressed nevertheless.

The bedroom colors were held in the softest of lilac with a deep indigo quilt draped over the king-sized bed. The bed itself was made of a very dark cherry wood with intricate designs adorning the headboard. All in all it was a beautiful room with a stunning view onto the back gardens and the ocean in the distance.

As Hermione had fallen into bed she noticed how quiet the mansion was. Nothing could be heard except the distant crashing of the waves. She had wondered if she was alone with Marcel in this big castle-like house, or if it was just that she inhabited a floor by herself. Contemplating this thought she finally had drifted of to sleep.

Indeed, Hermione hadn't been so wrong about her thoughts, for Severus and Draco had left the mansion in the late afternoon for an only-wizard-outing and ended up in a seedy bar in Muggle London. They hadn't dared to show up anywhere near Diagon Alley, for the ministry was still on the lookout for 'one Severus Snape' high-ranking deatheater and supposed right-hand man of Voldemort.

The bar was filled with muggle men, falling around drunkenly and trying to get a grab of one of the topless dancers on the stage.

Both wizards were sitting incognito in a dark corner, dressed like muggles. One thing must be mentioned; Severus Snape had finally acquired somewhat of a talent to dress muggle-like without attracting too much attention, and both men wore jeans and rather handsome shirts. Severus had bought a black market wand, so he could use it without detection from the ministry. All in all he was pretty safe at the moment, but always kept a look-out nevertheless.

Draco shook the blonde tendrils, which had a tendency to frequently fall into his eyes, away from his forehead and looked intently at Snape.

"The blasted mudblood has the guts to turn me down, a Malfoy for Merlin's sake," Draco exclaimed and took another shot of Tequila.

"Doesn't she know what an honor it is to be wed to a Malfoy? Not to mention all the wealth and status she'll acquire?"

"May I remind you that we are currently sitting in a muggle establishment, and that it would be vital to tone it down a bit, Draco? After all, one just never knows who might be sitting at the next table, listening," said Snape and glanced around with a snappish look on his face.

"Oh come off it, Professor. Nobody is here except a bunch of muggles … and … girls with big tits. I thought you like them big?" asked Draco with a wiggle of one eyebrow.

Snape rolled his eyes and took a big sip from his Bourbon.

"I'd much rather prefer brains to tits, Mr. Malfoy," he answered, but glanced with shameless abandon at a girl who was currently lap dancing on a customer nearby.

"Brains," Draco snorted. "Witches with brains have way too much baggage. Look at me for instance. I would be married and on my honeymoon by now, if it weren't for her bloody _'brains'_. One hour of no brains and the deal would be done."

"You'd get bored quickly, Draco, of that I have no doubt. The only reason you have been so taken by 'this' little witch since fourth year is because of her brains. She has a way of challenging you, which you cannot ignore. You simply cannot help but take on the challenge," drawled Snape in a somewhat bored tone of voice. He knew how Draco's mind worked and had enough experience in the psychological field to steer people in exactly the direction he wanted them to go. Alas, he had to make the first step to get both his former, extremely stubborn, students together and, even better, married, without one killing the other first.

"You must be speaking of yourself, Severus," said Draco and downed another tequila.

Snape took a deep sip from his drink and gazed intently at the younger male.

"Unless of course, you don't have any real interest in her?" he asked his nephew with a calculating glance.

Draco's head shot up, staring at Snape.

"What? Of course, I do. She's just so bloody difficult. Frankly, I don't have the time to follow her around like a puppy dog all day, courting her," Draco answered. _"Oh, darling, I have brought you some flowers. You do like flowers, don't you? Yes, of course, we will free all the house elves in my manor, sorry, our manor. Oh sweety, lets have a splendid day and spend time in the library reading to each other. Oh Hermione, you are the loveliest muggle-born witch I have ever known. Forgive me getting punched in the eye for kissing you this lovely morning. I shouldn't have. Let's have tea and afterward let's take a stride in the gardens. I love you so much when you yell, but please darling, don't turn me into a ferret. _SHITE! Do I look like a nutter to you?"

Snape had listened to Draco's entire diatribe completely unfazed.

"It looks like I was right after all," Snape pointed out. "Well, if you are really not in the mood to court her, you obviously don't have enough interest for her. Which means, I might just have a shot at her," he finished and, with that, swallowed the last drop of his drink.

At first, Draco wasn't sure if he'd heard correctly. It was not like he had something wrong with his ears. His facial expression was priceless when he leaned closer across the table toward the potions master.

"Excuse me, Severus? Are you saying that . . . Are you hitting on my girl?"

Snape gave him a one-sided grin. "Obviously!"

"But you can't. You wouldn't …. Would you? You are my godfather for Merlin's sake!"

"Any family relations or favors in that regard have never stopped me from getting what I desire, Draco. It seems you only want to marry the witch, so your son has a mother, well, his mother in this case. Unfortunately, I don't see that you really love her, and if you were truthful with yourself, you would admit to it," said Snape, before waving to the waitress to provide him with another Bourbon.

The young waitress came over within seconds and placed two glasses on the table, while batting her eyes at Draco.

"Here is another for ye, Handsome . . . ye look like ye could use one," she quipped and walked off, her hips swinging seductively.

"Are you barking mad, Severus? She's way too young for you. Besides, she hates you," exclaimed Draco, his speech becoming slurry.

"We'll see about that, Draco. At times, you will find I can be quite charming. This witch, you claim is so boring, has passion so deep, you wouldn't be able to see to the depths of her soul. I taught the girl for seven years and watched her every move. She is far from plain or simple. I bet you 100 galleons that I will have her wrapped around my little finger before the week is out," Snape challenged and held his hand out to Draco, who hesitantly took it.

"It's a deal, but she can never know about this, never!"

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A loud crash followed by a few swears was what woke Hermione out of her light sleep. Looking at her alarm clock she had brought along to the manor, she noticed it was only three in the morning. What on earth was going on?

"Oh no, Marcel!" she exclaimed and jumped out of bed, grabbing her wand of the night table in the process.

She looked around for her robe but couldn't spot it anywhere.

'Oh well, it would have to do,' she thought and slipped quickly out of her room in her thin silken nightdress.

Silently, she swept along the hallway toward the main staircase, which led to another hallway and the bedroom of her charge.

As soon as she reached Marcel's bedroom, everything was quiet again. Perhaps the house elves had been the cause of the ruckus, she contemplated.

As quietly as possible, Hermione cracked the door open and peeked inside. A strip of light from her wand illuminated the bed and Marcel's angelic sleeping face.

It hadn't been Marcel. From the looks of it, he was in a deep sleep. She closed the door and proceeded back toward her room, when she heard loud whispers and someone giggling.

Carefully she crept closer to the main staircase and peeked over the banister. She could only see two dark shadows creeping up the staircase, which nearly made her heart stop.

What if they were intruders? Should she go and wake Draco first, or take this into her own hands? But what if he wasn't back yet?

Resolutely and after taking in a deep, much needed breath, Hermione lifted her wand, placed herself in duel stance and whispered 'lumos'.

With one swish she pointed her wand at the intruders. "WHO ARE YOU? I'M ARMED! YOU BETTER EXPLAIN YOURSELVES!" yelled Hermione, staring down at two . . . muggles? They were wearing jeans and t-shirts. What are muggles doing in the Malfoy Manor?

One began giggling and the other lifted his head up toward her. He had a very snappish expression on his face.

"Professor?"

The other man had a head full of platinum blonde hair and plumped down onto the steps laughing so hard, he nearly fell back down the stairs.

"Draco?" asked Hermione, staring at the two men, her mouth hanging open in disbelief.

Snape grabbed Draco under the arms and hoisted him up, but it was no good. As soon as he was on his feet, he slid back down, laughing even harder.

Snape looked up with a sour expression.

"Ms. Granger, do me the honor and give me a hand instead of staring at us like a fish out of water, will you?"

Hermione looked at Snape with a grim expression, but nevertheless ran down the stairs and took Draco's other side. It took all her strength to keep Draco upright, not realizing how heavy he really was. Together they brought him up the stairs and into his bedroom, where he plumped onto his bed in a fit of giggles.

"Draco is completely plastered!" exclaimed Hermione with a sideways look at Snape.

"Your observation skills rival mine," Severus remarked sarcastically.

"Oh, thank you, Professor, I'm honored," she barked back, mimicking the same sarcastic tone.

Snape turned away from Hermione and pulled Draco's shoes off. He couldn't suppress a grin tucking at his lips. She surely wasn't the intimidated Gryffindor anymore he once knew.

"I believe a bucket is needed, Professor. I wouldn't be surprised if Draco wakes up in a few hours with a massive headache and the worst hangover ever.

"I believe you are right," he answered and summoned a house elf to bring a bucket.

Hermione looked down on Draco's sleeping face. He was out cold. He certainly was much more handsome without the sneering face he often put on, she mused.

"Ms. Granger? Ms. Granger?"

Severus had watched her for a few minutes. He had noticed she was lost in thought, but snapped her head up after he mentioned her name.

"Do you wish to stay here and watch him all night, or would you like to join me for some midnight tea?" he asked, hoping she wouldn't refuse.

Hermione looked surprised for a brief moment. She glanced at Draco's sleeping form and then back at Severus.

"Sure, Professor – tea sounds good right about now," said Hermione and followed him out of the bedroom.

As soon as both stepped into the kitchen, Hermione set out to make the tea, for she didn't want to wake the house elves.

Severus sat at the kitchen table and watched her, while she rummaged around attempting to find cups and saucers, as well as sugar and milk. Shortly after, the tea kettle began to whistle and Hermione poured the hot water into a porcelain kettle.

Severus watched her bemused.

"You know, you can use your wand for most of these tasks?" he asked her with a smirk.

Hermione turned around and looked at him briefly before putting the cups and tea kettle on the table.

"And I thought you are a man who doesn't like 'foolish wand waving', Professor?" Hermione answered and took a seat opposite him.

"Besides, I grew up as a muggle and I'm kind of used to doing _**it**_ the muggle way," said Hermione, waving her hand in a flourish way before taking a careful sip of her tea.

"I see," replied Severus and gave her a knowing grin, while Hermione caught on to the double standard of her comment. "And how do _**muggles**_ do _**it**_?" he asked.

"Well, that's not what I meant, Professor. Besides, I believe that they probably do it the same way" she uttered quickly, before thinking and blushed deeply.

It was the strangest thing to watch her Professor act so . . . flirtatious?

Hermione felt the heat rise into her face and knew not only the tea was to blame for that.

She looked down at the wooden table to avoid his intense gaze.

"Then I believe you have the best of both worlds, Hermione?"

At that, the young witch looked up. He had called her by her first name. How unusual. Something was definitely up, of that she was sure.

"What exactly are you insinuating, Professor?" asked Hermione baffled.

"Well, do you have a muggle beau courting you?"

By now, Hermione was huffing indignantly, wondering just where all this was heading.

"Of course not, why I don't think this is any of your business, Professor!" she exclaimed, before getting up from the table and grabbing the dishes one by one and placing them into the sink.

Snape's grin grew bigger, while he watched her delicate figure moving about. She certainly was something to look at, a natural beauty.

"Hmm, there is still hope then," he whispered, but loud enough for her to hear.

Hermione perked up, but didn't turn around from the sink she was facing.

He got up and strolled around the table, coming to a standstill behind her.

Slowly he leaned over her shoulder.

"Thank you for the tea and your exquisite company, Hermione. I'm much obliged,"

he whispered into her ear, watching a shiver running through her. He smirked, knowing that he hadn't lost his touch, yet.

"You are welcome," stammered Hermione before turning to leave.

"There is one more thing I would like to ask you, Hermione," said Snape, regarding her with an intense but cool look.

"I know that the Malfoys own an extensive library. I must admit that I have been there only once before, and hardly remember its location. I like to read before retiring to bed and wondered if you perhaps could show me to said library?" he asked in a silky smooth voice.

Hermione stalled and gave him a calculating look. After a few seconds of contemplation she nodded her head.

"Sure, Professor – follow me."

The whole way to the library Hermione felt his presence next to her. His entire essence was oozing strong magical charges and she began wondering why her body was reacting to it. She remembered the scent wafting toward her, when he had stood behind her in the kitchen, and to her surprise, it was intoxicating.

Confused, she finally stopped in front of a large wooden double door and opened it.

The library was massive, and Hermione had already looked through some of the rows of books earlier that day.

She walked through first and Snape followed her.

She watched him as he approached one of the shelves and scanned the titles.

He wasn't so much different than she was herself. One thing was sure. They both shared a great love for books. Severus didn't look too bad either for his age. She remembered the crush she had on her Professor for exactly three weeks in their second year. Of course, it didn't last long. The very day he had made fun of her in class, because of her eagerness to prove herself, the puppy love had died, never to be reborn again.

She watched his profile, his long nose jutting out from his face. What do they say about men with long noses? She stared at his long fingers as he gracefully pulled out a book.

Men with long noses, hands and feet had also long . . . ? Where the bloody hell did this thought come from?

"You have been staring at me for the last two minutes, Hermione. Is there something I can help you with?" asked Severus turning to her.

"N . . . no, Professor – I'll be leaving now," stammered Hermione and walked to the door.

"Good night, Hermione."

"Good night, Professor," she answered him; not daring to glance back, for his voice had taken on an almost husky tone.

Quickly, she headed up the stairs and to her rooms.

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A loud rap woke Hermione out of her deep slumber. She sat bolt upright in bed before she could even open her eyes.

"Whossere?" she asked groggily, rubbing the sleep off her face.

The door creaked open and before she could react, Draco was standing next to her bed looking down at her thinly veiled chest.

"Bloody hell, Malfoy!" shouted Hermione, covering herself with the comforter.

"Get up!" yelled Draco to Hermione's dismay. "Come on, get up or I'll drag you out by your feet. It's already nine a clock and we have important business to take care of," he added.

Hermione groaned and fell back into her pillow.

"Please stop screaming at me. If it weren't for your nightly excursions and me having to help you into your room in the middle of the night . . . "said Hermione, before she was rudely interrupted as the comforter was pulled away and the cool air hit her bare legs.

She ripped her eyes open and attempted to cover her breasts, which were quite visible (not to mention her erect nipples) through the sheer fabric. She hadn't noticed the night before, how extremely sheer the material actually was. Oh gods no! Snape! No wonder he was flirting with her. Why hadn't she thought about that earlier and had pulled on her robe?

She heard a sharp intake of breath coming from Draco and glared at him.

"What is the meaning of this?" she huffed indignantly, demanding an answer.

Draco composed himself and pulled his eyes away from her body with a smirk.

"What? Beside the fact that I have a sexy witch in my guest quarters? We are going on our spy mission, my dear Granger, have you forgotten?"

She shook her head in utter confusion. "What are you on about?"

"Blaise Zabini, of course – gods you're daft sometimes. He has left to go to France to visit family – someone has died or something the like – but he has asked me to take care of his house while he's out of town, hence the key," said Draco, holding up a large silver key on a chain in front of Hermione's face.

Hermione looked shocked while following the key with her eyes.

"I thought he isn't on speaking terms with you anymore, because of me?" she asked.

"What, Blaise? No way, Blaise has been my friend since we were toddlers. Besides, he doesn't know that you live under my roof, currently," answered Draco, before grabbing her ankle and beginning to pull her out of bed.

"STOP, Draco! STOP! I'm getting up," yelled Hermione, while wiggling her foot away from him.

"Are you? Really?" he asked, before he started tickling her foot with his other hand.

"OH, NO YOU DON'T! Oh, please no!" breathed Hermione in a fit of giggles. She was by far the most ticklish girl there was and he had to figure that out right now.

She wiggled and giggled under his tickle attack, and when her foot slipped out of his grip, he began tickling her stomach and waist.

Hermione turned around onto her stomach, attempting to crawl away from him, but to no avail. As soon as she scooted further away, he pulled her back toward him. After three escape attempts, Draco decided to join her on the bed and straddle her legs.

Hermione was completely out of breath by now. She almost couldn't take it anymore and flipped around to face him. Raising her arms up in the air, she begged for mercy.

"Please, Draco. Please, please. I give up," she panted, trying to catch her breath from all the laughing.

He grabbed her wrists and pushed them down on to the bed next to her head and brought his face close to hers.

"Oh I love it when you beg, Hermione," said Draco, his eyes intently on her. "I have to do that again sometime. So . . . you say that you give up?"

"Yes! Yes, I give up," answered Hermione, relieved that the tickle torture had stopped.

She stared back at him, noticing how the watery grey color of his eyes had turned into a dark intense color. She could see blue and green specs swim around his iris and marveled at the beauty of it.

His face inched closer to her and she could have sworn that he wanted to kiss her, but before his lips touched hers, he jumped up off the bed, pulling her with him.

"I give you twenty minutes to get ready. We meet in the breakfast room. I'll get the camera," said Draco and left the room as quickly as he had come.

Completely stunned and utterly shocked, Hermione stood there, wondering what had just happened. She couldn't believe how pleasant Malfoy had acted toward her? And, just like Snape the night before, Draco had called her by her first name. What was up with that?

She glanced at her clock and cursed. Only fifteen minutes left, before she had to meet Malfoy downstairs. Quickly she rushed toward her closet and pulled out a pair of tight black denim jeans and a black long sleeved t-shirt, which hugged her figure snugly.

She took a quick shower, pulled her hair into a ponytail and brushed her teeth. Lastly, she pulled on a pair of black Nike's her aunt had sent her from America.

She took a last glance at her reflection in the mirror and hoped it would do. She had to admit to herself, she really did look like a spy in all black.

Grinning she grabbed her wand from the nightstand and left her room.

An hour later they apparated into a grassy clearing. In the distance Hermione saw a large estate, just as pompous as Malfoy's own mansion.

"Hermione took a deep breath and let go of Draco's hand.

"Wow, you also have immensely rich friends, I see," she mentioned, brushed a curl from her face.

"Why, of course," said Draco with a smirk and waved his wand in front of her face.

"What are you doing?" asked Hermione in alarm.

"Putting a disillusionment charm over you, of course. You can't be seen, Hermione, or he'll know something is up," explained Draco.

"But, I thought he isn't here," said Hermione, all the while glancing at the mansion in the distance.

"No, he is not, but his elves are," was all Draco said, before a cool sensation washed over her body.

"Alright, that's done," said Draco happily, reaching out like a blind man, until his hand hit the top of her head. "You are certainly invisible. Let's go!"

Hermione followed him a bit disgruntled. She could have placed the charm on herself, if he had only asked, but, no, he had to do it himself.

'Typical male chauvinistic behavior' she thought while trudging after him through the high grass.

They reached their destination five minutes later. The gardens of the Zabini mansion were just as elaborate, if not more so, than the Malfoy mansion.

Draco walked toward the grand door as if he owned the place, whistling a tune.

He took out his key and unlocked the door, before turning to Hermione and placing a finger over his lips, telling her not to speak.

Hermione nodded affirmation, although he probably couldn't see it, and rolled her eyes.

Did he really think she was that dumb to give herself away while being invisible?

Thoroughly put out, she followed him inside.

The foyer was just as grant as the Malfoy mansion. Old paintings depicting long gone Zabini's were hung all over the walls. A huge stair case led to the upper floors and large windows were decorated with heavy, velvety drapes.

Draco signaled Hermione to follow her to the upstairs rooms. She followed him all the while looking around and taking in everything. She stumbled near the stairs over a little foot stool and fell against Draco's back, before she could quickly right herself again.

He looked over his shoulder and gave her a reprimanding look.

Rolling her eyes again, she followed him upstairs and into Zabini's bedchambers. Once they were inside what appeared to be the master bedroom, Draco opened the bag he had slung over his shoulder and pulled out a camera. He handed it to Hermione, who got the camera ready while Draco looked for a good spot to place it. After a few minutes, he signaled her again and pointed at an old vase with dried flowers. Quickly, she hid the camera between dry twigs and fastened it with a twisty.

Draco tapped her on the shoulder and motioned her to follow him again. They went out into the hallway and entered a room across from the master bedroom. This room was a bit smaller, but just as tastefully decorated. It was obvious to Hermione, that this must be his daughter's bedroom. She looked around and, on closer inspection, noticed a foes glass on the wall. What would a little girl need a foes glass for, she wondered and inspected it carefully. Then a thought struck her. She quickly, but silently hurried out of the bedroom and down the corridor into the adjacent room. It was the master bathroom and the mirror over the sink was at exactly the same spot as the foe glass in the other room.

Slowly Hermione inched her way toward the mirror, looking intently into its glassy surface. It took a while, but after a few seconds, she began to see inside Zola Zabini's bedroom and Draco, who looked around frantically to find her.

Hermione made her exit and walked back toward the bedroom, running right smack into Draco.

He let out a grunt and glinted at her evilly, throwing his hands up in the air.

Then he took hold of her arm and pulled her into the bedroom, motioning her to hide the second camera inside a porcelain collector's doll, which was sitting on a shelf.

After all was done, he pulled her roughly with him, not letting go of her arm once, until they were outside and away from the gardens.

"WHAT THE HELL DID YOU DO THAT FOR, GRANGER?" screamed Draco, while flourishing his wand to take of the charm. He was livid.

"Merlin's beard, Draco, you don't have to scream. I'm not deaf," Hermione answered, while glaring daggers at him.

"Besides I noticed a foe glass in Zola's room and wanted to investigate. So I did," she added.

"Well, and? What did great Detective Granger find out?"

Hermione took a deep breath and regarded him like a stern schoolmaster would a child.

"It's quite simple. The foe glass leads to a mirror on the other side of the wall, directly into the master bathroom. Which means, that Zabini can spy on his daughter anytime he likes. Which means, that she doesn't have any privacy," explained Hermione triumphantly.

Draco looked stunned for a moment.

"Are you sure?" he asked.

"Of course I'm sure. I know a foe glass when I see one. But it seems to have been tampered with to serve a different purpose."

"For the purpose of spying on Zola"

"Exactly"

"Let's get out of here, Granger."

"Alright, but before we go, when do you intent on getting the cameras back and how?" asked Hermione before stepping closer to Draco.

"I have no idea, but I'll think of something," he answered. He took hold of her hand and they vanished from sight.


	15. Chapter 15

**15. Dangerous flirtations**

It had been a grueling day for Hermione and she was glad to get back to her room, pulling of her shoes.

The little dragon, a pet name Hermione had given to Marcel, had been extremely hyper and it was nearly impossible to teach him anything. Toward the afternoon she had finally managed to calm him down and he accomplished the work she had assigned to him.

The face of little Zola crept into Hermione's mind again. It made her feel so helpless, knowing that there wasn't much she could do except for wait.

Patients had never been Hermione's strong point, but sitting still and not doing anything wasn't working either.

Suddenly it came to her; the Malfoy library. Why hadn't she thought of it sooner? It was filled to the brim with books. She would not have been surprised, if it also contained a few law books.

She got up and quickly slipped into a pair of jeans and a tank top, before leaving her room and heading for the library.

It took a bit, but soon she was sitting near a window in an oversized armchair with four big volumes on her lap, combing through the first one eagerly.

She took notes whenever she found any useful information and soon her parchment was reaching the length of a long dining room table.

Hermione was just about to open the last big tome, when she heard two male voices out in the hallway.

"I said, I will do it in due time, Severus, but now is not the right time." That was clearly Malfoy's voice.

"The longer you wait, my godson, the worse your situation becomes. Ms. Granger might still forgive you now, but the longer you wait the less the chances. What do you have to lose?"

"Marcel of course. It's a gamble and I don't want to lose him."

"You have friends in high places, not to mention, you are very powerful as far as the Ministry is concerned, what do you have to fear? Zabini would certainly stand by your side on this."

Draco let out a bitter laugh.

"Not anymore. If he finds out that I helped Granger bring him to justice for molesting his daughter, I can kiss our friendship goodbye. I'm still not certain, if Blaise is even guilty. I just cannot believe him doing such a thing. After all, he's got plenty of witches keeping him happy. It just wouldn't make any sense."

Snape's voice followed: "Don't be so sure on this. Some wizards have a rather, shall I say, dark sexual taste? I wouldn't put it past him to have a sick and twisted mind. There were a number of times I suspected him harassing the first year Slytherin girls at Hogwarts. It also was relayed to me, at one point in time, that he isn't quite successful with ladies of his own age….a failure to …perform, I believe? Wasn't the Ravenclaw girl he impregnated three years younger as well?"

"Oh, please. I cannot believe that. Blaise and not performing? It's not possible," countered Draco.

"…If you say so, Draco…"

The voices grew fainter and then vanished.

Hermione sat there completely motionless. Her mouth was open and her throat was dry.

What did all this mean? Why would she have to forgive Draco and for what? Why did Snape ask him not to wait any longer and why would Draco lose his son?

The longer she was around Malfoy the more her whole life became a giant riddle. Perhaps Hermione could ask Snape about all this?

She might even succeed with a bit of charm. After all, he seemed pretty smitten with her the other night.

Carefully she got up and stretched her stiff body. Then she picked up the tomes and placed them into their proper places. Lastly, she rolled up the parchment and shrunk it enough to put it into her jeans pocket.

Yes! It was high time to search for her old Professor and see how far her charm could bring him to answer some of her questions.

She didn't have long to search and found him in the kitchen, before him a hot steaming cup of tea and the evening edition of the daily prophet.

The kitchen was lit only by several torches lining the walls. It reminded Hermione of medieval times; as if she had just stepped back into the past.

The moon was full that night and illuminated the gardens, visible through the large kitchen windows.

She walked silently, but a creaking floor board gave her away.

"Ms. Granger, how nice of you to join me," Severus said without turning around. He kept his face hidden between the pages of the newpaper.

"Hello Professor, fancy meeting you here," Hermione replied and poured herself a cup of tea before seating herself opposite him at the large kitchen table.

Her comment made him lower the paper and glance at her.

"Fancy? Since when did you find it fanciful to meet me?"

He lifted one eyebrow and regarded her curiously.

Instantly Hermione's cheeks felt hot and she hoped that her Professor wouldn't notice her blushing in the dimly lit kitchens.

"I was just….I mean to say that….I don't detest your company, Professor. Actually, I admit I do like to talk to you – a man with as much knowledge as you have – it's quite intriguing and … delightful." Hermione was mortified. If she kept stuttering around like that, she'd make a fool of her self. Apparently, turning on the charm wasn't quite as easy with a full grown man of his standing and wit.

A smirk formed on his lips and he placed the paper onto the table. Did he see a blush on her face? He couldn't quite tell.

"Delightful! Intriguing! … Interesting choice words…. I must confess, I never had one of my former students refer to me in such a way." He replied slyly, watching her intently.

Hermione was trying very hard to keep her eyes locked on him, but it wasn't easy. Soon, she would falter, she just knew it. His black eyes bored into her with an intensity that made her shiver. It was amazing how calm he stayed through their staring contest. His face was stony except for the sly smile playing about his lips and the intensity of his stare. Was there lust in his eyes?

Hermione attempted to look flirtatious, but an unspoken fear crept into her heart. She knew she was playing with fire when it came to one Professor Severus Snape, but her bravery and pride wouldn't let her back down now.

She would have to go in for the kill.

"I believe that a lot of students are unable to look beyond the image you have so carefully erected and cultivated in school. As a matter of fact, I believe that there are many unexplored facets of your very personality and it would take a special person to see beyond that and willing to explore." She quipped, giving him a light smile.

Severus had to admit; he nearly fell of his chair when hearing his former, and very beautiful, student talk in such a way. But he kept his cool, despite the fact that his nether region had other ideas.

His stare became even more intense, if that was at all possible. Now, Hermione could clearly see the dangerous lust displayed in his eyes. It was unnerving, really, and she wondered, if this had been one of her worst ideas as of yet.

"…..and you, my little witch, are eager to explore, I presume?" By now, his smooth voice had taken on a husky undertone. He had turned the deck around, and Hermione knew it. Toying with him was like toying with a tiger or a lion or a snake. Soon you would find yourself the victim of such dangerous games.

Hermione quickly looked away, which brought a triumphant smirk to his lips. He knew she was up to something other than she displayed. Well then, he would just have to show her what would happen to people who attempt to deceive him.

Suddenly he got up; the smirk replaced by a sneer.

"Do not toy with me, Ms. Granger, for it is you who will get burnt in the process," he hissed, made his cup vanish with a flick of his wand and walked to the door and out the kitchens.

Within seconds he heard her light footsteps behind him. He knew she would pursue him further. She was the kind of person that doesn't give up quickly. As relentless as she was with her school work, she was also in other areas.

"Professor wait," Hermione called after him and picked up the pace.

Quickly he walked down toward his chambers, but then veered off into an unlived part of the Malfoy Mansion, all the while hearing her behind him.

Hermione kept running after him; three steps matching just one of his strides. She had nearly caught up with him, when he suddenly stopped and whipped around.

Reaching out, he grabbed her by her arms roughly and pushed her against the wall.

Hermione's breathing had become shallow and fear gripped her. She glanced around quickly. How could she have missed the fact that she now found herself in a dark and dank corridor? Which part of the house where they in? How could she have just blindly followed Snape? After all, he was a deatheater at one point and time. He had killed scores of people perhaps. He had raped. He had raped…..hadn't he? She remembered him clearly stating so, when she first saw him.

The panic rose in Hermione and she began struggling against his hold, trying to slide out from against the wall.

That was, when he pinned her entire body with his. She was no match for him. She could hardly breathe for his chest was pressed against hers. She felt his hot breath against her ear when he spoke.

"That was very foolish of you to follow me, little witch. Did your parents never taught you not to flirt with strange men? You might find yourself in a position you didn't wish for," he breathed into her ear and another shiver went down Hermione's spine.

Oh gods, where was Draco when you needed him? She felt something hard pressing against her lower abdomen, which made her knees grow weak in fear.

She had to stay calm and per sway him to let her go.

"Professor, please. I just … wanted to ask … you a question," Hermione blurted out, while struggling against his iron hold.

"And what makes you think I would answer you?" he breathed into her ear and bit her earlobe.

"I don't know….oh please …. I can't breathe…"

Tears began forming in her eyes and she silently wished this was only a bad dream.

"You should have thought of that earlier," he replied harshly and grabbed her by her hair, dragging her along the corridor to the next door.

He opened the door and shoved Hermione inside, while following her in.

There was an old sofa, a few chairs and a table in the room. All furniture was covered with sheets.

Roughly she was shoved toward the sofa, while watching in horror how he fumbled with his pants.

It didn't take him long to open his fly and release his straining erection, which was indeed large, just as she had thought.

In horror Hermione watched him coming closer. She acted quickly and escaped his grasp, but he caught up with her the next instant and toppled her over onto the couch.

Gripping her hair tightly, he used wandless magic to bind her arms onto her back. He used a different spell, for suddenly she couldn't move her legs and found herself kneeling on the couch.

With a satisfied smirk, he gripped her face and pressed his manhood against her mouth, forcing her to open up.

"Open your mouth, little wench," he hissed, breathing heavily.

She attempted to turn her head away, but each time he grabbed her chin and snapped her face back around toward him.

He muttered another spell and Hermione felt her mouth open against her will. For the first time in her life she was genuinely scared. She had never given oral sex to any of the boys she knew in school, so this was a complete new experience for her. She could taste the saltiness of his flesh and the pre-cum oozing from his penis.

He pushed in and out of her mouth slow and hard, hitting the back of her throat each time and making her gag.

She gave a strangled cry, hoping against hope that Draco would happen to look for her, which was a rare possibility. Why would he want to look for her? He had no reason to.

She began to get more used to her current situation and was just hoping that her dear Professor didn't have anything else on his mind.

Ok, so she gave him a blowjob, big deal. Grow up, Hermione. It isn't that bad. He's actually quite sexy in an evil sort of way; she thought and chided herself the next instant.

Suddenly he pulled out of her and released the binding spells on her accept for her hands, which were still bound to her back.

She was pushed roughly onto the couch and with the next spell her jeans vanished from her body and appeared on the floor next to them.

In shock she looked at her naked legs and noticed that her panties had disappeared as well.

Mortified she looked up at him and let out a strangled scream.

He quickly placed his large hand around her throat and cut off her air supply.

Straddling her legs, he ripped at her tank top with the other hand to unveil her shapely breasts.

His phallus jutted out from his groin, pointing straight at her.

"Now you get to explore the other side of me, Hermione. I wonder if you like it." He stated mockingly, in a sadistic sort of way.

He lifted her legs far apart, and, despite her struggling against him, he nevertheless succeeded.

Once he had secured her flailing legs, he positioned himself at her moist entrance, rubbing his flesh against hers.

Against her own will, Hermione noticed herself getting even more wet and a weird sensation swept through her lower abdomen. She didn't like it, was ashamed of herself. How could her body react as such, when she herself didn't want it?

The pressure on her sex increased and she knew there was no turning back. Professor Snape was about to rape her. That was all. It was the end … no turning back.

She closed her tear stained eyes, attempting to think of something else … away from the pain this was causing her.

He had only pushed his head into her flesh, when she suddenly felt a rush of air against her naked skin. Then she heard the unmistakable voice of Draco Malfoy.

In the semi darkness she could see him standing near the door; his face white as the sheet she was laying on and his wand at the ready.

"You better get your filthy hands off of my fiancée Severus, or I might just turn you into a Eunuch", he shouted, venom in his voice.

A sadistic smile on his lips, Snape turned around slowly and got up; not even pretending to hide is erect sex, which glistened with her bodily fluids in the moonlight that swept through the windows.

"What took you so long, Draco?" Severus asked and pulled his pants up in a leisurely way.

"What the hell is that suppose to mean?" Draco replied, hate lacing his voice.

Severus walked toward him slowly and coming to a halt in front of the younger man, unfazed of the wand pointed straight at him.

He looked into Draco's eyes and grinned.

"I thought I'd speed things up a bit for you, Draco. You should thank me," he whispered in low tones, so that Hermione wasn't able to hear him.

Then he left and closed the door behind him.

It only took Draco two second to sprint to Hermione and wrap his arms around her.

Hermione reciprocated the action and wrapped her arms tightly around his neck. Tears were streaming down her face and all the tension finally found its release.

Her whole body was shaking and trembling while Draco rocked her back and forth, all the while thinking why his dear godfather had done such a horrid thing.

In another part of the mansion, Severus was standing at the window, his face screwed up in passion, while he jerked and pulled his sex roughly with his hand in a brutal and near painful fashion. All one could hear were the sounds of slapping his flesh and his deep groans until he reached his climax.


	16. Chapter 16

**16. Madness ensues**

He sat on the edge of the bed, watching Hermione's sleeping face. After the incident, he had carried Hermione up to her room and had given her a sleeping draught. It took a while for her sobs to ebb away and now the only evidence of the horrid encounter with her former professor were dried up tears staining her cheeks.

Draco's hands were balled into fists. How could this bastard have done this to his fiancée? Draco always trusted in Severus, no matter what. During the war he was often the only person he could confide in. When all else failed, Severus was there to protect his god son.

The scenes he had encountered kept playing in his mind over and over again – his Hermione pinned underneath this monster of a man trying to rape her and all the while Hermione struggling to get away.

Draco jumped up. This had to end today. He would never forgive himself, if such a thing was to occur again. Hermione was his and no other man had the right to place claim on her.

Slowly he bent over her sleeping form and placed a light kiss on her forehead. Then he exited the room in search for Snape.

It didn't take long to find him reclining in a comfortable armchair by the fire with a book in his hand.

Draco rounded on the older man viciously, pointing his wand in the other's face and grabbing Severus by the front of his robes.

"How dare you disrespect Hermione and put your filthy hands on her. How dare you do this in my house. Is that "_your_" way of dark sexual taste? Perhaps YOU are the one with the sick twisted mind, dear old professor?" Draco hissed, his wand crackling with sparks; so much was his anger and hate for the older man.

Uttering a slicing hex, several bloody streaks appeared on Snape's face. The old professor grinched a bit, but didn't let much on to the pain he felt. Pain and torture was his constant companion for so many years and although it was never easy to endure physical pain, Snape found emotional pain a thousand times worse.

"You can be lucky if I don't kill you on the spot, my dear god father. You don't even deserve that name anymore. You are filth and you will leave this house tonight! I give you one hour to gather your things!"

Snape looked up at him unfazed, a slight smirk playing around his lips. As soon as Draco saw the smirk his temper flared and hex after hex hit Snape until he was thrown back against a shelf. As fast as a snake ready to strike, Snape pulled out his own wand.

"Crucio," Snape hissed and watched as Draco fell to the floor writhing in agony.

"Kill me and your little witch will know what you have done. As soon as I take my last breath, all the memories I transferred to her will unravel in her mind. I'm the only one who can stop them."

Snape lifted the curse and stood back breathing heavily.

"What memories?" asked Draco, while he pulled himself up into a standing position.

"…The memories of your sexual encounter with her, impregnating her and stealing her child from her... It's in your best interest to put away your wand, Draco, or I might unleash these memories right now."

Reluctantly Draco pushed the wand into his back pocket and straightened up, although he kept a close eye at the old professor.

"How in Merlin's name have you done that? It's not possible!" Draco cried out, staring his nemesis down.

Severus stood up straight staring intently at the younger man. Both men breathed heavily with their previous exertion.

"Oh it's quite easy. There is much to Legilimency and Occlumency only a highly experienced wizard knows about and can do. I've had many years to perfect my ability even without the use of a wand."

Snape took a deeper breath and straightened even more. He knew he had victory on his side as he watched Draco falter slightly.

"I never intended to hurt your little wench, although she's rather tasty and it was hard for me not to take her, but I knew you would come to rescue her. Let's just say, I wanted to speed things up between you and her."

Draco swiftly stepped closer and shoved his wand into the other's ribs once again.

"LIAR! I saw what you did. You were two seconds from raping her."

"You are right Draco. It had to appear real for it to work. Did she not sobbingly wrap her arms around you? Isn't that what you wanted, her complete trust in you?"

Snape stared Draco down, like a stern schoolmaster would a quivering child, and after no retort from the latter, he knew he won the battle.

"Once again, you proofed me right, Draco. Now, if you still want me to leave, I will do so. But you will have a lot of explaining to do in the morning, unless, of course, you take matters into your own hands, and finally explain everything to the mother of your child. It's your choice. I can't make you. If you'll excuse me now, I would like to heal the gashes on my face, before they become permanent." With that Snape swiftly turned and left the sitting room, his robes billowing out behind him.

Draco just stood there, completely perplexed. On one side he believed his god father, having experienced many of the older man's ruses himself. On the other hand, he couldn't shake the feeling of jealousy and guilt that the other man invoked in him.

One thing Draco knew. He had to confess to Hermione. There was no way around it any longer. The faster he could make her his bride the better. He needed to protect her. Numerous times he had to stand there and watch her being hit on by so many other males. Perhaps it wouldn't be so bad. Perhaps she would understand and they could become a couple. Perhaps she would learn to love him as much as he loved her.

Oh, who was he fooling? He knew Hermione. She would never let something like this go lightly. She was too much of a Gryffindor to let this go unpunished. He had done a horrid thing. He had taken her son from her.

With a heavy heart he made his way up the stairs. It was nearly midnight. Morning came early enough to explain everything to her. Perhaps she'd be in a better mood after a good night's rest.

Hermione woke with a start. The first gleams of the morning sun tickled her nose. Did she oversleep? Glancing at the little radio clock on the dresser told her that it was only six thirty in the morning. Thankfully she turned over and snuggled into the blanket.

Something was off, but what? Her eyes chanced upon the dreamsless sleep potion and suddenly all that had happened the night before came rushing back. Her heart began to race and a sickening feeling settled in the pit of her stomach. Snape tried to rape her.  
She could still feel the taste of his flesh in her mouth. The greedy lustful eyes roaming over her body would forever be etched in her memory. Afraid to lose the content of her stomach, although there was probably not much in it, she ran for the bathroom just in time to throw up. Afterward, she leaned against the cool bathroom wall trying to control her shaking body.

She needed a shower, but first she would brush her teeth for an hour. With all the resolve she had, she pulled herself up and set to work, cleaning every inch of her body.

Draco didn't sleep well all night and was awake at five in the morning. After a strong cup of coffee, he set out toward Hermione's guest quarters. To the casual observer, he would have looked like a madman or a homeless person muttering to himself incoherently, pacing up and down.

He had to tell her; the earlier the better. He knew that as soon as Snape woke up it was all over. It would then be too late and she would know everything that had happened the last three years.

He arrived at her door listening for any sign of life behind it. He could faintly hear the water running and knew that she must have woken already.

Quietly he opened the door and slipped into the room. Her bed was in disarray and, just as he thought, the bathroom door was closed and the shower was running.

Slowly he walked over to her bed and took a seat.

In his haste he had only thrown on the clothes from yesterday – a pair of denim jeans and dress shirt, which he had left unbuttoned. But he was so busy thinking about the task ahead, that he hardly noticed the way of his dress.

After what seemed an eternity, Hermione finally emerged wrapped only in a towel. He could notice her clearly startle as soon as she set eyes on him. Instantly she noticed that he was only half dressed and a wave of fear came over her. Was he going to rape her now too? Her muscles became taught and rigid. This time she wasn't going to let a male overtake her. This time she was ready to strike with all that was in her.

"What the hell are you doing here, Malfoy?"

Quickly he jumped up and held up his hands in surrender.

"Look, Granger, I know how this must look to you, but I'm only here because I have some very important business to discuss with you."

Her hands gripped the towel tightly as if to protect herself.

"Can't this wait till I'm dressed?" she asked indignantly.

"NO," Draco blurted out and took a step forward. In the same instance Hermione took a step back.

"NO?" she copied.

"I'm sorry but "no" it can't wait."

"Fine, let me at least grab my bathrobe," she mumbled and slipped into the bathroom. No sooner she was back in the room clad in a white fluffy bathrobe.

"Ok talk!"

Draco knew she wasn't in the best of moods, hell he wasn't in the greatest mood either, but it had to be done.

Hermione watched him intently and noticed how nervous he had become. Since when did Draco get nervous? She had never seen him like this. Suddenly the scenes from last night drifted back into her mind; how Malfoy had held her close, while she was sobbing into his shoulder; how he had carried her to bed and brought her the sleep potion. Perhaps he came to apologize for Snape?

"I wanted to thank you for last night. I'm glad you found us. If you hadn't come…." Hermione didn't finish her sentence.

"I'm glad too," said Draco barely above a whisper. He couldn't do it. He just couldn't do it. Defeated, he took a seat in the armchair next to the bed and covered his face with his hands while his elbows rested on his knees.

"I'm sorry. I'm so sorry," he uttered with such desperation, that Hermione couldn't bare it.

She stepped close to him and placed a hand on his shoulder.

"I know you are, but thankfully nothing happened. I'm glad you came to my rescue, Draco."

No sooner had she finished her sentence when Draco leaped up.

"That's not what it is!" he exclaimed. She could clearly see desperation in his face.

In a blink of an eye he had grabbed her hand.

"Hermione, marry me!"

"What?"

"Marry me!"

"What are you on about, Draco?"

"I need you to promise me that you will not get upset."

"Why would I?"

Hermione was beyond confused. What was the matter with him? He had never acted in such a way before; so needy and desperate.

"Promise me you won't leave us, Marcel and I," Draco asked gripping her hand harder and placing a kiss upon it.

It made her uncomfortable, but seeing his state, she didn't want to pull away just yet.

"What is really going on, Malfoy? I've never seen you like this. Just spit it out already," she said encouragingly.

He looked deep into her amber eyes. She was so beautiful. He wouldn't be able to bare it to lose here once more.

"I love you! And I don't want to lose you again," Draco pleaded.

"Lose me again? What do you mean "again"?

Affectionately, Draco grabbed Hermione around the waist and led her to her bed. He pushed her down gently and took a seat next to her.

He took a deep, shuttering breath and spoke.

"In second grade I first began noticing you. Remember when we met at Florish and Blotts? I loved your witty mind. I loved the way you stood up against me. Most people were too afraid. I loved your beautiful eyes and your dark thick curls. I've always loved you."

Didn't he used to call her hair a birds nest? Since when did he refer to her hair as dark and curly? Hermione was getting more confused by the minute. She wanted to retort but he held up his hand and placed a silencing finger lightly onto Hermione's lips.

"I know, I know. I teased you mercilessly and called you filthy names, but that is not how I felt. I had to keep up the act for my father and all the Slytherins . I hated it. All I wanted was to talk to you, get to know you. When I began seeing you hang around Krum, I nearly lost it. I could have killed Weasley when you started going out with him. The one night, when I found you crying in the astronomy tower and heard about Weasebee's escapades, my heart jumped with joy. Finally, here was the moment I was waiting for. I persuaded you to have some fire whiskey and I knew you were mine."

Abruptly Hermione interjected. "YOURS? So those memories in the pensieve were real?"

Staring at Draco, she couldn't believe her ears.

"Yes, they were real. We had sex that night and it was the best night of my life."

At that, Hermione jumped up shaking her head.

"No! This can't be. We didn't have sex. There is no way. I would never…." She couldn't finish her sentence. Feeling faint, Hermione sat back down on the bed burying her face in her hands.

It pained Draco to see her so distraught. He gently took her hands from her face and held them in place, while looking deeply into her eyes.

"I wish you could forgive me. I'm not lying when I say that it was the best night of my life. Afterward I couldn't get you out of my mind, but I knew you'd never be with the likes of me; an evil Slytherin, a deatheater's son. … A month later you came to me, telling me that you were … pregnant..."

Hermione violently shook her head. "No, this isn't true."

After noticing that she wanted to slip away from him, Draco gripped her hands tighter.

"Yes it is true, Hermione. Marcel is your son. Shortly after he was born, I obliviated your mind and took Marcel with me. There isn't a day going by, that I don't regret my actions, but at the time it was the only option. I love you so much; it pains my soul to be without you any longer…"

He wrapped his arms around her, but Hermione couldn't bare it. She struggled against him and finally freed herself from his embrace.

Jumping up, she ran for the door, but Draco had anticipated her attempted escape and pushed the door shut again, trapping her in her quarters.

"Please Hermione. Give me a chance. Give Marcel a chance. He loves you as much as I love you."

"I can't believe you, Draco Malfoy. HOW DARE YOU PLAY WITH MY MIND?"

"It is all true; every word. You can look at the pensieve if you like and see for yourself."

Hermione shook her head.

"NO! I don't want to hear another word. You can stick your stupid made up stories into your big arse. I'm out of here!"

That said, she turned around, walked to her closet and started packing her bag.

Draco watched her for a moment. He couldn't let her leave. It was now or never. He knew that once she left he would never see her again.

Quickly he stepped behind her and wrapped his arms tightly around her. His mouth was near her ear and it tickled her when he spoke.

"Please Hermione, don't leave. I will do anything you ask me to, but please don't leave. Your son needs you."

She grabbed his arms and tried to pry them apart, but to no avail.

"LET ME GO, MALFOY!"

"NO, I'll never let you go again!"

She wiggled and pulled, kicked and scratched him, but she was no match for him.

Hermione broke down. She couldn't do it anymore. Her whole world shattered around her. She began sobbing and her knees buckled. Draco slid down into a sitting position leaning against the armchair and held her closely against his chest.

He whispered sweet words into her ear while she sobbed against his chest.

After a few minutes her sobs ebbed away slowly. Finally she looked up at him.

"WHY? If this is really my son, why did you take him away from me?"

Draco's face was white as a sheet and his eyes were dark and sad.

"I don't know. I was scared of my father. I didn't want our son to grow up without me and I knew he would have never approved of us being together."

"But your father is in Azkaban?" Hermione asked, her eyes penetrating his, as if she was trying to pierce his very soul.

"He wasn't at the time. He had escaped at the end of the war. These were hard times, Hermione. I was my worst enemy. I had convinced myself that I didn't love you for so many years, although deep down I knew I was lying to myself. I thought I didn't need you, but when you stepped back into my life a few weeks ago, I couldn't keep up the façade any longer. I didn't have the strength to deny my love for you any longer. I was …" Draco didn't finish his sentence. Instead he lowered his head slowly placing a feather light kiss on her mouth. Hermione couldn't think. All thought was blotted out of her mind, as if she was sitting beside her body, watching the scene from outside. Draco intensified the kiss plunging his tongue into her mouth. His hands roaming over her body as if this was the last time he would ever be close to her again.


End file.
